


To Catch A Swan

by PhoenixTalon



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-09 01:40:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3231452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixTalon/pseuds/PhoenixTalon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A reimagining of season 1, where Henry finds Neal first instead of Emma. Swanfire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New York

“Neal! Are you coming out with us tonight?”

Neal Cassidy glanced up from his desk towards Roger Stegman, who was leaning against his doorframe eagerly. Roger was a good sort of coworker, the kind that was willing to help you fix your mistakes, chat with you in the break room, and tell you if birthday cake was being served on one of the floors. It was around 3:47 PM on a Friday afternoon, and the employees of Heidelberg Associates were getting antsy. 

“Nah,” Neal stretched a little. “Think I’m just gonna go home. Maybe next time.”

“C’mon, Neal,” Roger complained. “You’re a freakin’ workaholic. Tax season’s over, cut loose a little!”

Neal shrugged. “Gotta pay the bills,” He grinned. He turned back towards his Excel sheet, but apparently that was not enough of a dismissal. 

“We’re going to Paige’s,” Roger pressed. “Best bar in town. Lots of pretty girls! You know, Naomi in marketing has been talking about you a lot. She’ll probably be there if she knows you’re going.” 

Neal twisted his lips. “Maybe next time.”

“All right then,” Roger said good-naturedly. “You shouldn’t drink alone, you know!” He exited Neal’s office in something of a huff and Neal smiled. 

Perhaps he should break down and join them. It’s not like he was a loner by any means—he joined his coworkers for after work drinks all the time. Most of the bars around here knew him on sight. Neal sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, considering. Every time he tried to gain motivation to go, something sunk in his gut.

By the time 5:00PM rolled around, Neal had come to a decision. Not this weekend. He was going to pick up some Chinese takeout, a six pack, and call it a night. There ought to be something mindlessly distracting on TV.

It was one of those perfect October days that made Neal glad he didn’t drive much, as he turned on his iPod and pressed shuffle. It had been a brisk walk this morning, but the cool wind felt good as he stepped out of Heidelberg, heading towards the Subway. 

He waved idly towards his friends that were headed towards Paige’s but continued on his route, stopping at a newsstand for a cup of coffee. He glanced at a magazine and jolted a little at the date—October 22nd.

Neal exhaled. Today was Emma’s birthday. 

His stomach lurched. She had turned 28…where was she? What was she doing right now? Was she all right? Happy? In love with someone who deserved her? 

Neal cleared his throat, trying to stave off the guilt and waves of sadness. He hadn’t heard from August in several years—no updates on if Emma was all right, if she needed any more money, if she was safe. 

His iPod began to play “Born to Run”, by Bruce Springsteen—it was a little too apt. He pressed skip and “Charley’s Girl” came on. Satisfied, he continued to head back to his apartment, trying not to think of Emma. 

There would probably never be a moment where he didn’t love her, Neal thought to himself as he unlocked the door to his apartment. He tossed his black messenger bag on the couch and went to the fridge, pulling out a beer. He winced, remembering he’d forgotten to pick up a six-pack—he was down to one drink left. Sighing, he picked up his cell phone and ordered garlic chicken and egg drop soup, flicking on the television. 

Disney’s Peter Pan was on. Rolling his eyes, he changed the channel quickly and found a suitably boring documentary on ancient Arab trade routes. Twenty minutes in, his Chinese arrived, and he ate quietly. 

Dull, Neal thought to himself. But familiar. Normal. Maybe someday he would find someone, a nice girl that would make him forget about Emma—someone who had no connection to his past, to the world he ran from. No destiny, no magic, no pirates, no curses…just blissful monotony. 

His eyes began to flicker and Neal fell asleep. 

XXXX

There was a knock at the door. 

Neal grunted in his sleep. The knock became more persistent and Neal forced himself up, slouching to the door. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” He muttered, opening it wide. He blinked at a young boy who grinned up at him eagerly. 

“Hey—you need something?” Neal asked, a little perplexed. As far as he knew, there were no kids in his apartment complex. 

“Are you Neal Cassidy?” The kid asked. 

“Yeah,” Neal rubbed his eyes.

“My name’s Henry,” The kid said cheerfully. “I’m your son!”

Neal stared at him. “What?!”

Henry paid no heed, sidling past him and entering the apartment. Neal watched him, his mind swimming frantically.

“Look—I think you made a mistake, kid,” Neal tried to say. “I don’t have a son.”

“Ten years ago, were you ever with a woman named Emma Swan?” Henry demanded, folding his arms over his chest.  
Neal’s heart stopped.

“That’s my mom,” Henry explained. “She’s hard to find though, she moves around a lot. But you’ve been in one place for a while and it was a cheaper deal to get to New York than Boston.”

“But—Emma and me—we never had a kid!” Neal spluttered. 

“Would you know if you did?” Henry queried skeptically and Neal ran his fingers through his hair. It was impossible—he couldn’t—Emma would’ve told him if she were pregnant, wouldn’t she? She’d never keep this from him, she’d never…

He stood, rooted to the spot. He’d left her. He’d abandoned her while she was pregnant. Immediately, rage coursed through his veins—August. Did August know about this? Was this all part of some screwed up plan?! 

“Yum,” Henry had helped himself to a spare crab rangoon. “Do you have any juice?” 

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Neal attempted to halt the situation as Henry strode to his fridge, taking out a large jug of apple juice. “You’re—you’re Emma’s kid? Does she know you’re here?!”

Henry shook his head. “She gave me up for adoption,” He said calmly. There was a shadow in Henry’s gaze that Neal felt familiar with. This kid was lonely. He felt abandoned by those he loved. Isolated. 

“Okay, where are your adoptive parents?” Neal wanted to know. “Do theyknow you’re here?” 

Henry raised and lowered one shoulder. “I need your help finding Emma,” He announced. “And then I need you both to come with me to Storybrooke.” 

“What’s the matter?” Neal wanted to know. “You okay?”

“I am,” Henry said slyly. “But we need Emma. We need Emma to break the curse!”

“Break the…” Neal stilled. Rivulets of ice crept into his veins as he thought of who created the curses. His voice grew serious. “What are you talking about?”

Henry lit up. “You believe me!”

“I didn’t say that,” Neal said quickly. “But—what are you talking about.”

Henry shrugged off his backpack, busily unzipping it and pulling out a storybook. He flipped through the pages and Neal caught several familiar faces—Snow White, Prince Charming, Red Riding Hood—there was one that almost liked like him as a young boy…

“Every story in this book is true,” Henry said solemnly. “It actually happened.” He handed the book to Neal, who gently flipped a page. He hadn’t imagined it—an illustration of young Baelfire, a look of terror on his face…

“Emma’s in this book,” Henry explained and Neal wondered if this kid knew that he was in it too. “See?” There was an illustration of an infant, swaddled in a blanket.

Neal looked closely. “I recognize that blanket—that belonged to Emma. It was her baby blanket.”

Henry looked excited. “See!” He crowed. “It is true!”

Neal shook his head in agitation. “Hang on. You’re telling me—the people in this book,” He avoided saying ‘the Enchanted Forest’. “Are here? In this world?”

“In Storybrooke,” Henry affirmed. “Time is frozen there, though. The Evil Queen cursed the Enchanted Forest and now everybody who lived there is in  
Storybrooke. Stuck in that town, forever.” 

Neal swallowed. A curse…curses were his father’s realm of expertise. If Henry was telling the truth, it was possible…it was possible Rumplestiltskin was in Storybrooke. Unless he’d taken precautions to avoid such a curse—he was the king of loopholes…

Henry was watching him anxiously. “Nobody knows who they are,” He said urgently. “They’ve forgotten! No one grows older, no one changes, everything stays exactly the same. I’m the only one who even goes up a grade. And—”

“Your adoptive parents,” Neal broke in. “They’re there?”

Henry coughed. “Yeah. My mom. She’s the Evil Queen.” 

There was a slight pause as Neal processed this. It had been hundreds of years since he’d been in the Enchanted Forest—most of the names in Henry’s storybook were unfamiliar to him. He recognized the Blue Fairy, his father,himself…but the Evil Queen? 

“She doesn’t love me,” Henry stared at his feet. “She only pretends to. She’sevil.” 

Neal felt a painful stab of kinship. 

“Has she hurt you?” He asked gruffly.

"She tries to make me think I’m crazy,” Henry sighed. “The whole town is under her control. No one can leave. Everyone’s happy endings are taken away. And the only way to save everyone is to find Snow White and Prince Charming’s daughter—Emma—to break the curse, and set everyone free!”

Neal coughed. “You’re saying Emma is the daughter of Snow White?”

Henry nodded. Neal felt slightly sick. He fingered the storybook, considering. What would this mean? Suppose they did find her, suppose they did go  
back to Storybrooke. What then? Would he have to face his father? Didn’t August say that being with Emma got in the way of her destiny? 

But could he leave Henry at the hands of some evil witch? 

Neal sighed, rubbing his temples. Henry watched him carefully.

“You’re taking this better than I expected,” Henry said suspiciously. “You believe me?”

“I wish I didn’t,” Neal said quietly. “But I don’t think you’re lying.” His lips twisted as he turned a page, showing Rumplestiltskin cackling towards Snow  
White. 

Henry cocked his head. “Why?”

“Because I’m in here too.” 

XXXX

It was hard to figure out how much Henry should know. In the space of a few seconds, Neal’s life had completely changed, everything he had run from and left behind had burst through his door, on the heels of a precocious ten-year-old. There could be no more running, no more hiding from his past. But that didn’t mean Henry had to suffer as he had suffered. 

“I wish you’d just tell me already,” Henry complained as they sped down the highway, en route to Boston. “I’m gonna find out anyway. I’m resourceful.” 

“I don’t doubt it,” Neal said grimly. He had no idea how a ten-year-old managed to travel all the way from Maine to New York under the nose of an apparent wicked queen. 

“Let’s just say it might be dangerous for you to know who I am,” Neal explained, fingers tightening on the wheel. “Just call me Neal for now.” 

Henry was quiet for a moment. “Can’t I…can’t I call you, Dad?” He requested hesitantly and Neal’s heart lurched. “I mean, I do have a Mom, and I don’t want to freak out Emma any more than we’re already going to. But I’ve never had a dad. It’s been just me and Mom for as long as I can remember.”

Something unfamiliar warmed in Neal’s chest. “If you want to,” Neal said quietly.

“Great!” Henry grinned. “I can’t wait to see Emma, though. I wonder if she’s like how I imagined her…”

Neal coughed. “Yeah, that is something we’re gonna have to talk about,” He said, tapping his fingers on the wheel impatiently. “We’re gonna have to pull  
a little con. You with me?”

“A con?” Henry blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Emma is not gonna be happy to see me,” Neal said frankly. “And probably won’t be happy to see you either. If we both tell her we have to bring her to an enchanted town to save everyone, she won’t come. Especially because I’m with you.” 

“Hm,” Henry said thoughtfully. “The hero never believes in the beginning. Well, you did, but—”

“I’m no hero,” Neal sighed, thinking of how he abandoned Emma. “We’ll have to play this carefully.” 

Henry cocked his head curiously. “Why won’t she be glad to see you?” He asked. “Bad breakup?”

“Something like that,” Neal sighed again. “We’ll be lucky if she doesn’t slam a door in our face.”

“I’ll make her listen,” Henry said confidently. “I’ll say that if she doesn’t come with us, I’ll tell the police you and her kidnapped me.”  
Neal blanched at the terribly believable lie. This really was his kid. 

“All right, well in that case, we’re gonna act like you blackmailed me into seeing her,” Neal said decidedly. “That you wanted both of us to come to Storybrooke and this was the only way. So when we get there, I’m gonna act like I don’t believe you about the town. Otherwise, Emma’s just gonna think I’ve gone crazy.” 

Henry nodded slowly. “I gotcha,” He said, stretching a little. “That’s smart. You’re good at cons!” 

Neal laughed. “Honestly, kid, I never thought I’d be running one again,” He ran his fingers through his hair in agitation. “Once you go square, you don’t wanna go back…” 

“Right,” Henry took a sip of a large gulp soda that Neal had bought at the first gas station they’d filled up at. “How long till Boston?”

"A while,” Neal’s heart fluttered and he stepped on the gas.

XXXX

It was around 9PM when they finally arrived on the doorstep of a sleek, modern apartment complex. Neal heaved a deep breath, trying to calm his jitters.  
He was going to see Emma again. After all this time…did she hate him? 

“C’mon!” Henry said cheerfully, grabbing his hand. Henry had had a luxurious nap in the car and was now thoroughly energized as he fairly dragged Neal into a glass elevator. He pressed the button on the top floor, cheerfully humming something that sounded like a Disney song while Neal tapped his foot anxiously. 

“You sure are nervous,” Henry remarked, noting Neal’s agitation.

“I told you,” Neal sucked in his breath. “We didn’t exactly part well.” 

Henry twisted his mouth a little. “Why did you break up?”

“It’s a long story,” Neal muttered. “Listen. When we get to her door, you’re gonna have to be the one to knock and introduce yourself. I’ll wait a little to the side. If she sees me straight off, she’s liable to slam the door and refuse to even hear you out. Once she knows who you are…then grab me.”

“No problem,” Henry said confidently. The elevator doors opened and they stepped out. Henry found the apartment immediately—apartment 815. 

“You’re on, kid,” Neal gingerly touched his shoulder and Henry grinned. Neal stepped out of sight, watching Henry knock on the door. 

After a few moments, the door opened—and there she was. 

She hadn’t changed. Older certainly, but the same guarded features, the same beautiful blonde hair, the same stormy blue eyes. She stared at Henry in some confusion and asked what he wanted. After confirming her identity, Henry brightly introduced himself—just as he’d done at Neal’s apartment, hours before. 

The shock and fear on Emma’s face was evident. Henry queried if she’d given up a child for adoption ten years ago—from the look on Emma’s face, her answer was clear. 

“We need to get going,” Henry told her firmly. “All of us. Right, Dad?” He called over his shoulder.

If Neal had seen terror on Emma’s face from confronting the child she gave up for adoption, it was nothing compared to the horror in her eyes as he stepped into view. She fell backwards against her door, completely at a loss. 

“Hey, Emma,” Neal said quietly. “Looks like we got some catching up to do.”


	2. Storybrooke's Welcome Wagon

"Don't slam the door in our face," Henry requested.

Neal briefly considered wishing Emma a happy birthday, but when the shock and horror on her face melted into hard anger, he thought better of it.

"What—how—" Emma sputtered. "What are you doing here?"

"He found me," Neal replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Said he was my kid. Didn't believe him at first—never thought you would keep something like that from me." He hadn't meant for his tone to sound accusatory, but the bitterness still slunk in.

Emma's eyes widened in anger. "You have absolutely no right to—" She halted briefly, noticing Henry had shrunk back from her tone. Neal watched her swallow her rage and force a reasonable tone.

"You don't have to be mad," Henry said mildly. "It's not Neal's fault we came here. I made him. I took a bus all the way from Maine to come." He promptly pushed past Emma into her apartment.

"Henry," Neal called after him, starting to follow. For a second, Emma blocked him, glaring daggers at him, letting him know through one expression that he was not nor ever would be welcome in her home. But she stepped aside, deciding that pursuing Henry was more important.

"You should get your stuff," Henry announced, flopping on a very uncomfortable looking couch. "We need to get going."

Emma took a deep breath. "Give me a minute," She disappeared into the hallway and Neal let out the breath he'd been holding.

"She sure hates you," Henry observed.

"Yeah, I noticed," Neal glanced around his surroundings. There didn't seem to be much in her apartment—no photos, no art, no signs that she was in any way attached to this place. The furnishings seemed unlike her too, cold and heartless, as if they'd been picked out by a commercial designer.

Emma reappeared, staring them both down. She cleared her throat. "Okay. Kid, I'm calling the cops to take you home."

"Then I'll tell them you two kidnapped me," Henry said firmly and Neal winced. Emma saw the movement and her lips pursed.

"Got you with that line, did he?" Emma said bitingly. "Figures you wouldn't come here unless you were blackmailed into it."

"How would you know," Neal snapped. "Since you never told me I had a kid?"

"Stop fighting or I'll tell the police you hit me too," Henry said grandly and both Emma and Neal silenced.

She looked hard at the resolved ten-year-old before her and something of a half-smile appeared on her face. "You're pretty good. But here's the thing—there's not a lot I'm great at in life. I have one skill. Let's call it a superpower. I can tell when anyone is lying and you, kid, are."

She went to the phone receiver and Henry threw Neal a panicked expression.

"You really wanna chance that?" Neal folded his arms. "How's this gonna look to the cops? Estranged birth mother and father, who previously lived states apart, suddenly reunite with a kid in tow?"

Emma ignored him entirely, beginning to dial.

"Please don't call the cops!" Henry burst out. "Please…please come home with me. I need you both!" Emma hesitated. She threw another hateful look towards Neal and set down the receiver, turning towards Henry.

"Where's home?" She wanted to know.

"Storybrooke, Maine." Emma snorted. "Storybrooke? Seriously?"

Henry nodded. "And you both have to come with me," He pleaded.

She exhaled noisily and Neal shrugged towards her. It was hard to get a read on Emma—obviously he knew she was seething towards his presence but somewhere in between the chaos, she'd closed off all emotions towards him, refusing to acknowledge everything that was unresolved and unsaid. Frankly, he'd rather she scream at him then endure this ice.

"All right," Emma said decidedly. "We'll take you back to Storybrooke. We'll take two cars," She jerked her finger towards Neal. "I'm not riding with you. Then the kid goes back to his house quietly. Got it?"

"Got it," Henry affirmed. "I'll ride with you, Emma!"

"Fine," Emma brushed past Neal to grab her keys. "Though don't be surprised if Neal ditches us halfway. He's good at that."

At that precise moment, Neal's head began to pound. This was going to be a long night.

XXXX

At around midnight, Neal's tan Civic crossed into Storybrooke, Maine, on the heels of a yellow bug. The yellow bug.

The moment he crossed into Storybrooke, something crept up the back of Neal's spine. There was something strange about this town. He could feel it in his bones—it was like walking around on cold medicine. Everything simply felt fuzzy. Unreal. In stasis. The town itself appeared charming, wholesome even, with a sort of center square, cute kitschy shops, the sort of place that thrived on bed and breakfasts for old married couples.

Things weren't always what they appeared. No one knew that better than Neal himself.

He parked behind Emma's yellow bug, watching her and Henry exit the car. He exhaled slowly, trying to shake the impending sense of doom that shadowed him.

His father could be in this town.

Neal exited his car and joined Emma, who was currently demanding Henry provide his address.

"Forty-four Not Telling You Street," Henry replied and Neal leaned against the yellow bug, throwing Emma a significant expression. She'd actually kept the bug.

Emma ignored the glance. "Look, it's been a long night and it's almost—" She looked upwards towards the clock tower. "8:15?"

"That clock hasn't moved my whole life," Henry told them. "Time's frozen here."

"Excuse me?" Emma crossed her arms. Henry looked towards Neal. "I explained to her about the book," He said importantly. "The Evil Queen stopped time here. She sent everyone from the Enchanted Forest here."

Neal shivered—that would include Rumplestiltskin.

"Okay, the Evil Queen sent a bunch of fairytale characters here," Emma said skeptically.

"Yeah, and now they're trapped," Henry explained.

"Frozen in time, stuck in Storybrooke, Maine. That's what you're going with?" Emma asked dryly.

"It's true!" Henry protested.

"Then why doesn't everybody just leave?" Emma asked in exasperation.

"They can't," Henry said seriously. "If they try, bad things happen!"

"You left," Neal pointed out and then considered. Henry wasn't born in the Enchanted Forest, nor was he conceived there. Maybe that made a difference. But did that mean now that Neal was in Storybrooke…that he couldn't leave? His stomach lurched.

Henry opened his mouth to respond but someone interrupted. "Henry!"

The three turned to see a bespectacled man trot up towards them, walking a Dalmatian. He had curly red hair and approached them all a little warily.

"Henry, what are you doing here? Is everything all right?" He asked, his eyes flicking between Neal and Emma.

"I'm fine, Archie," Henry said nervously.

"Who's this?" Archie asked, gesturing towards Neal and Emma.

"Just two people giving him a lift home," Emma broke in before Neal could answer.

"They're my parents, Archie!" Henry said eagerly.

Archie's eyes widened. "Oh, I see," He said softly, taking both Neal and Emma in.

"You know where he lives?" Emma asked pointblank and Henry flinched.

"Yeah, sure," Archie responded, a little taken aback at this turn of events. "Just, uh, right up on Mifflin street. The Mayor's house is the biggest one on the block."

Emma whirled towards Henry. "You're the mayor's kid?!"

Henry scuffed his foot. "Uh, maybe…"

Neal reflected—that made a lot of sense. If the Evil Queen had cast the curse, she'd give herself the best life possible, a life with the most control. As mayor, she'd rule everyone's lives.

"Hey, where were you today, Henry?" Archie asked suddenly. "Because you missed your session."

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, I went on a field trip," Henry answered quickly and Archie sighed in response.

"Henry, what did I tell you about lying?" He asked reprovingly. "Giving into one's dark side never accomplishes anything."

Tell that to Rumplestiltskin, Neal thought to himself dryly but suddenly stilled. Henry hadn't been lying—the Evil Queen was trying to make him think that he was crazy. That's why Henry saw a shrink. He sucked in his breath. He was suddenly looking forward to meeting this queen—sounds like they had a few things to settle.

XXXX

They arrived in front of a large white house, obviously the fanciest and most elaborate home in the entire town. Neal hadn't spoken much since they'd arrive, but he was jumpy—perhaps afraid that his father was going to spring out of nowhere.

But did this mean Rumplestiltskin was under the curse as well? Had Rumplestiltskin forgotten who he was? Did this mean…instead of the Dark One, if Neal were to run into him…would he be the same man Neal had loved? A poor spinner, afraid of his own shadow, but kind at heart? Or perhaps a tailor in this world…Neal shook the scattered thoughts aside briskly. There was no time for this.

Henry halted. "Please don't take me back there," He begged, suddenly appealing to Neal. Neal swallowed hard. He looked at Emma worriedly and a brief shadow fell over her countenance, before she hardened.

"I have to. I'm sure your parents are worried sick about you," Emma replied, doggedly heading towards the house.

"I don't have parents!" Henry burst out. "Just a mom and she's evil!"

"Evil? That's a bit extreme, isn't it?" Emma asked wryly.

"She is! I told you!" Henry reached for Neal's hand. "She doesn't love me. She only pretends to. Please, Dad! I don't want to go back!"

Neal looked gravely at Emma, who bit her lip. It was clear she was thinking the same thing as him, worrying about Henry's safety. Worse still, if she were an Evil Queen from the Enchanted Forest…had she hurt Henry? Had she been cruel to him? Suddenly, Neal wanted to throw the entire con away, confess all, and take Henry away from here, far from the dangers and evils of his world.

"Kid…I'm sure that's not true…" Emma said weakly.

"Emma," Neal said quietly. "Maybe we should—"

"Henry!" The door to the house opened and a woman rushed out. She was beautiful, in all honesty, with dark hair and expressive eyes, wearing a classy dress. She flung her arms around Henry, nearly sobbing with relief. Neal watched her carefully, his eyes flicking towards a cop who ambled up to them.

"Henry!" She gasped. "Are you okay? Where have you been? What happened?"

"I found my real parents!" Henry snapped, shoving away from her. He darted inside the house, leaving her alone with Neal and Emma. She gaped at them, fear flooding her face. Neal scratched his nose, suddenly feeling awkward. He'd expected something of an evil witch, but at the moment…she seemed an ordinary, concerned parent…

Looks can be deceiving.

"You're—you're Henry's birth parents?" Her voice shook as she stared at them both.

"Yeah, but we're not together," Emma said hastily. "He just—found us both."

"Neal Cassidy," Neal introduced, extending a hand. She did not take it but her eyes narrowed towards both of them. Calculating.

"I'll just—go check on the lad. Make sure he's all right," The cop edged away from the awkward encounter, retreating into the house.

There was a long pause before a smile broke out on the woman's face.

"My name is Regina Mills," She said graciously. "How would you two like a glass of the best apple cider you've ever tasted?"

"Got anything stronger?" Neal and Emma asked in unison.

XXXX

Regina's house was immaculate. Too immaculate. It looked like something out of a magazine for furniture. There were no crumbs on her counters, no scattered toys, no roller blades to trip over. Everything was perfectly precise, more like a photo shoot than a home.

Neal didn't like it.

She led them into her parlor and poured them both a glass of cider. Emma took a large sip but Neal only held his. He knew better than to down a drink from his land.

"How did he find me?" Emma wondered aloud, taking in her surroundings.

"No idea," Regina said smoothly. "When I adopted him, he was only three weeks old. Records were sealed. I was told the birth mother didn't want to have any contact." There was the barest hint of judgment in Regina's tone that made Emma's expression flicker.

"You were told right," She said flatly.

"And you?" Regina turned towards Neal.

"I've known about Henry's existence for approximately eight hours," Neal replied, a little coolly. "And honestly—I would have wanted contact."

Regina stiffened. "Unfortunately, that is neither here nor there," She said coldly and Neal bristled. Emma shot him a warning look but he ignored it.

"Oh, yeah?" Neal said challengingly but before Regina could retort, the sheriff interrupted, coming downstairs.

"Madam Mayor, you can relax," He announced. "Other than being a tired little boy, Henry's fine."

"Thank you, Sheriff," Regina's gaze never left Neal's. The cop exited and she took a deep breath.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Cassidy," She said matter-of-factly. "I'm afraid you'll find that under Maine law, you are not recognized as a legal guardian and you have no obligation or responsibility towards Henry. I do appreciate your concern, but as it stands, you're free to go back to wherever you came from."

Neal rose, fists clenching. "Yeah? We'll see about that," He snarled. He turned from the room, leaving Emma and Regina alone.

He stormed out of the obscenely perfect house, trying to control his temper. To his surprise, the sheriff was waiting outside, leaning against his car.

"Is there a problem?" Neal asked warily.

The cop shook his head. "Not at all. I do know that Regina's drinks can be a little poisonous, though. I wouldn't recommend driving." His accent was foreign—in this world, it would've been Irish. Neal wondered who the sheriff actually was.

"Nah—I'm not leaving," Neal ran his fingers through his hair. "At least not yet. You know of a hotel I can stay at?"

"Try Granny's," The cop advised. "Just down the road."

"Great," Neal muttered, starting on his way. He paused for a second, turning back towards the sheriff. "Hey, uh…" He tried to remember if the cop had introduced himself.

"Graham," The sheriff smiled. "Something else you need?"

"Yeah—you know any lawyers in this town?" Neal asked.

Graham's brow furrowed. "Lawyers, hm?"

"Uh huh," Neal glanced towards the house. "I, uh…didn't know that I had a son. Till today, actually. And, well…just wanted to know if I have any rights."

"Well, for legal representation, you'd probably want to ask Mr. Gold," Graham suggested. "But I warn you, he's not exactly cheap."

"What lawyer is, right?" Neal grinned and the two men exchanged a smile.

"Well, he's also a pawnbroker. You'll find his shop across from the library, in the town square," Graham directed. "I hope things work out for you."

"Yeah, me too," Neal said distractedly. He waved at the sheriff and started down the road.

Granny's Bed and Breakfast turned out to be a charming place, though a bit outdated. There was no wifi, no internet at all, it seemed—and while Granny, the concierge was obliging and gracious, he couldn't help but feel disquieted. He requested a forest view, thinking it would be less distracting. In any case, something about this damn town gave him the creeps.

Well, not something. There was no doubt about it—this town was under a curse. He also had the sinking suspicion that his original theory was correct—that Rumplestiltskin had crafted this curse. But if he had, why would he allow himself to be cursed? He must have included some sort of loophole, something that would allow him to remember who he was. Neal exhaled, flopping on the bed in exhaustion.

He wondered what had become of Emma and Regina. He'd been too angry with them both to pursue their conversation—but reflecting, should he really blame Emma for not telling him about Henry? He had left her. He had done it with good intentions—this damn destiny August had gone on about—but he'd still left her. Despite how much it hurt leaving her, hadn't there been even the slightest moment of relief for him? That he wouldn't be caught up in the magic he'd spent so long hating? She had no reason to tell him anything anymore. She was right. He walked out of her life, she'd moved on. It was unlikely she even wanted anything to do with him anyway.

But Henry…Henry was in danger. They had to keep him safe—they had to break this curse, if only for him! Neal's promise to August to stay away from Emma was now invalid, not with his son's life and happiness on the line.

With that, Neal rolled over and fell asleep.

XXXX

Neal awoke to a loud banging on his door. Tiredly, he stumbled out of bed but before he could reach the door, it burst open.

Regina stormed over to him in fury, Emma and Sheriff Graham close at her heels. "Where's my son?!" She demanded. "Did you take him?"

"What?" Neal hadn't quite woken up yet. "What are you talking about?"

"Where is he?" She shouted. "I know you have him! You asked Graham about a lawyer, you're trying to take Henry away from me!"


	3. Mr. Gold

Neal stared at Regina in disbelief.  “You’re telling me that Henry is  _missing_?” He thundered.

“As if you didn’t know,” Regina hissed and Graham moved between them, checking the hotel closet and under the bed. 

“Aw, geez,” Neal rolled his eyes. “If I was gonna kidnap the kid, do you really think I’d spend the night here? Wouldn’t it make more sense to grab him and go?”  He looked at the sheriff pointedly and Graham shrugged towards Regina.

“Madam Mayor, he’s not here,” Graham confirmed. “Looks like Emma was right.” 

Neal glanced at Emma who did not meet his gaze. 

 

“Well,  _where_  is he?!” Regina threw up her hands in frustration. “He wasn’t in his room this morning!”

“Look, like I told you,” Emma stepped between Regina and Neal. “I can help you find him. I’m good at finding people—it’s what I do. Let’s try his friends and go from there.”

“Henry doesn’t really have any friends,” Regina admitted, biting her lip. “He’s kind of a loner.”

Neal frowned at that but Emma’s expression softened.  “Every kid has friends,” She affirmed. “Let’s try his computer—we can see if he’s been emailing anyone.”

****

Once inside Henry’s bedroom, Emma logged onto the computer at his desk.  Graham and Neal sat on Henry’s bed while Regina paced in agitation.  Henry’s bedroom looked well-lived in, with clothes and toys scattered about, and piles of books placed haphazardly.  It was a nice change from the rest of the crazily ordered house.

“Smart kid,” Emma sighed. “Cleared his inbox. I’m smart too—a little hard disk recovery utility I like to use…” She withdrew something that looked like a jump drive and clicked it into the USB port. 

“I’m a bit more old-fashioned in my techniques,” Graham remarked. “Pounding the pavement, knocking on doors, that sort of thing.” 

“You’re on salary,” Emma replied, eyes fixed on the computer. “I get paid for delivery. Pounding the pavement is not a luxury I get—huh. His receipt for a website—whosyourmomma.org.”

“Huh,” Neal commented. “Guess that’s how he tracked us down.”

“It’s expensive,” Emma observed. “He has a credit card?”

“He’s ten,” Regina retorted, folding her arms.

“Well, he used one,” Emma was unfazed by Regina’s peevish tone. “Let’s pull up a transaction record. Mary Margaret Blanchard—who’s Mary Margaret Blanchard?”

Regina’s lip curled.  “Henry’s teacher,” She practically spat.

****

Mary Margaret Blanchard turned out to be a sweet schoolteacher, who looked about as intimidating as a butterfly.  She was very pale with a short dark pixie cut and blinked in confusion as the four of them strode into her classroom, as soon as she’d excused her class to recess.

“Miss Mills,” Mary Margaret said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Where’s my son?” Regina demanded and Neal rolled his eyes.  This woman excelled at being accusatory.

“Henry? I assumed he was home sick with you,” Mary Margaret replied honestly.

“You think I’d be here if he was?” Regina snapped. “Did you give him your credit card so he could find  _them_?” She jerked her head towards Emma and Neal.

Mary Margaret attempted to process the situation.  “I’m sorry, who are you two?”

"I’m his—I’m his—” Emma started to say and Neal opened his mouth to finish for her.

“She’s the woman who gave him adoption,” Regina undercut them both. “And the deadbeat who impregnated her.”

Neal bristled.  “ _What_ did you just call me?”  But before he could rip her a new one, Emma stepped in front of him, holding up her palm.

“You don’t know anything about this, do you?” Emma asked Mary Margaret who shook her head in response. 

“No, unfortunately not,” She murmured, digging through her purse to retrieve her wallet.  There was a blank slot and she sighed. “Clever boy…I should never have given him that book.”

“What in the hell is this book I keep hearing about?” Regina demanded and Mary Margaret blanched at her tone.

“Just some old stories I gave him,” She said defensively. “As you well know, Henry is a special boy. So smart. So creative—and as you might be aware…lonely. He needed it.”  It was clear Regina terrified the schoolteacher, but there was bite to Mary Margaret’s words.  She was protective of Henry and Neal appreciated that someone had been looking out for him. 

So it was she who gave him the book…where had she gotten it?

“What he needs is a dose of reality,” Regina snarled. “This is a waste of time.”  She brusquely turned away from them, knocking over a stack of books. 

Emma knelt to help Mary Margaret pick them up but Neal followed Regina’s long strides, out into the school parking lot.  “Hey,” He snapped. “ _Regina_.”

She stopped, turning to face him, her cold eyes flashing.

“Kids only run away when there’s something to run from,” Neal growled. “Why is it that I get the feeling Henry’s best interests, his health, his safety is _not_  your first priority?”

Regina’s eyes widened.  “How  _dare_  you,” She hissed taking a step towards him.  In that moment, Neal clearly saw not Regina Mills, but an Evil Queen, bent on destruction.

But Neal had stared into the eyes of darkness once before and he was not afraid of her.

“He’s not crazy,” Neal clenched his fists. “But you send him to therapy, trying to make him think something’s wrong with his head. Boston and New York are awfully long ways to travel for a lie—so that leaves one other option. The truth.”  He glared at her stonily.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Regina said in disgust.

“Don’t you?” Neal’s eyes narrowed. “I know who you are. And I know what you’ve done. You’ve had a lot of fun with your life, haven’t you? But that’s over now. You’re not damning Henry so you get your happy ending. Not while I’m here.”

For the briefest second, Regina looked shocked.  Shaken.  It lasted only a moment and then the composed, cold professional was back in place.

“I’d suggest you visit Dr. Hopper,” She said smoothly. “Since you seem to be exhibiting signs of mental illness. But let’s make one thing clear, Mr. Cassidy, so there’s no misunderstanding. Henry is mine. Not yours—mine. And this is my home. If you cross me, I will destroy you and Miss Swan if it is the last thing I do.”

She whipped around, stalking off.  Neal watched her, unimpressed.

He’d faced scarier villains than her.

****

Neal felt a great sense of foreboding as he stood outside Mr. Gold’s Pawnbroker and Antiquities shop.  He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something deeply unpleasant inside and every instinct he possessed was telling him to bolt. 

But he  _needed_  a lawyer.

He wasn’t worried about Henry.  He was relatively sure that Henry had pulled this disappearing act simply to ensure that Emma stay in Storybrooke longer—there was no way Henry would be absent for long, not after all the trouble he took to get his parents there.  Frankly, Neal couldn’t blame Henry for wanting to escape Regina.  She seemed hellish to live under. 

Taking a deep breath, Neal opened the door to the pawnshop and stepped inside.  It was dark, smelling of dust and silver polish.  As his eyes adjusted, he noticed what an eclectic mess the shop was—there was no order, no sections to divide the antiquities.  He ducked under a glass unicorn mobile and shivered towards a set of puppets hanging from the wall.  This place was creepy.  It made him uncomfortable and he couldn’t figure out why. 

“Hello?” He called out. “Anyone here?”  The sign had said open.  He slowly ambled around the shop, taking everything in.  There were ornate tea sets behind glass, a Mickey Mouse phone, a windmill.  Strangely enough, a chipped teacup appeared to hold a place of honor on a marble pedestal. 

Neal was about to give up and leave when he noticed something strange.  There was a leather ball sitting upon a bookshelf, an old dusty toy that looked to be made out of cowhide.  Brow furrowing, he leaned down to pick it up.  Fingers tracing over the seams, his heart jolted when he realized— _this was his._

“Can I help you?”      

Neal jumped at the soft voice behind him, dropping the ball.  He whipped around and found himself face to face with Rumplestiltskin. 

His first instinct was to run.  To crash through the antiques, to bolt out the door, to run until nothing but miles and miles of distance stood between him and his father.  His veins iced over, his breathing became shallow, everything _screamed_ at his senses to  _run, run, don’t look back, RUN_!

“I’d be careful with that,” Rumplestiltskin said smoothly. “It’s very old.” He stooped on a cane and bent to pick the cowhide ball up, carefully placing it back on the shelf. 

Neal backed away from him, edging towards the door.  There was no mistaking that face—but it was so strange.  Here, his father was subdued.  Subtle.  He wore a well-tailored suit, leaned against an expensive silver-topped cane, appeared to be the epitome of grace and sophistication.  The precise opposite of the theatrical Rumplestiltskin. 

“I believe you came here with our new visitor—Henry’s birth mother?” Rumplestiltskin asked casually. “I was told you were seeking legal advice.”

“How—who told you that?” Neal managed to say, his heart still pounding.

“Word gets around in a small town,” Rumplestiltskin chuckled. “My name is Mr. Gold. I would, of course, be perfectly willing to assist you. For compensation, naturally.”

Neal stared at him in confusion.  Was it possible that Rumplestiltskin—had _allowed_  himself to be cursed?  But why?  Why would he take that risk?  If there was one thing Rumplestiltskin could not endure, it was someone having power over him…there was no way he’d allow Regina to take away everyone’s happy endings if it included his own…

“N-Neal Cassidy,” Neal said finally. “And I—you know, what I don’t need legal advice. Thanks anyway.”  He started towards the door. 

“If you’re certain,” Mr. Gold allowed, fingering his cane idly. “I’m sorry to say there is not a wealth of legal representation in Storybrooke—particularly ones who’d assist you in facing down Mayor Mills.”

Neal hesitated and Mr. Gold smirked. 

“That is what you’re after, isn’t it? Partial custody of Henry?” Gold suggested, his eyes glittering.

Neal glanced at the door behind him and took a breath.  He remembered the coldness in Regina’s demeanor, her possessive fury when she realized who Emma and Neal were.  He remembered Henry’s terror in returning to her home, how he’d begged them not to take him back to her.  He thought of the danger, the curse that consumed the lives of the people from the Enchanted Forest, and Regina’s selfish nature.

_If Rumplestiltskin doesn’t remember me…if he doesn’t know who he is…if he’s just a pawnbroker…_

“Full,” Neal said suddenly. “I’m after full custody of Henry.” 

“Ah,” Mr. Gold said softly. “That’s very ambitious of you. I’m impressed. Most young men your age wouldn’t take to the idea of fatherhood quite so willingly.”

“I would never abandon my kid,” Neal said icily.  It was surely his imagination, but something flickered in Gold’s placid countenance.   

There was a long pause before Neal finally spoke.  “I don’t need your help,” He turned away, heading towards the door.

“If that changes,” Gold said calmly. “You know where to find me.”

“Not likely,” Neal muttered walking out the door. 

****

Halfway down the street, Neal was surprised to see Emma, thunderclouds gathering over her, looking upset.  She seemed to be leaving Regina’s neighborhood and he jogged up to her. 

“Emma,” He called to her and she cast him a quick glance.

“What?” She fairly snapped, quickening her pace.  Neal kept up with her easily. 

“Did you find Henry?” He asked patiently, ignoring her tone.  She jerked her head in assent and Neal cast a quick glance backwards.

“Something happen? With Regina?” Neal wanted to know.

Emma refused to answer but she headed straight for Granny’s.  Sighing in frustration, Neal stepped in front of her.

“Get out of the way, Neal,” Emma growled.

“Look, I know you’re pissed at me,” Neal held up his hands. “I know you hate me. I know I’m the last person in the world you want to deal with right now, especially since Henry appeared out of nowhere. But please…hear me out.”

Emma’s expression hardened as she crossed her arms in front of her chest.  “One minute,” She ground out, tapping her foot.

Neal exhaled.  “Emma—I’m not asking you to forgive me. I’m not asking you to stop hating me. All I’m asking is that you work with me—for Henry’s sake. There’s something wrong in this town and I’m worried about the kid. And I can’t watch out for him without you. For his sake…could we put up a truce?”

Emma stared at him, her expression so full of hurt and fear, that it nearly broke Neal to look at her.  Her head dropped towards the ground as she curled her hands into fists.       

“You don’t trust Regina, either?” She raised her head slowly. “With Henry?” 

Neal shook his head adamantly.  “No, I don’t.”

Emma blew out, her stance relaxing a little bit.  “I don’t know what it is about her, but something’s just not right. I don’t know how long I’m staying and I’m  _not_  getting involved in a custody battle, if that’s what you’re after—but I want to make sure Henry’s all right. At the very least. And…if you’re serious about sticking around for Henry, if we can put aside the past, for Henry’s sake…I’m game.”

Neal grinned in relief and for the briefest moment, something in Emma’s expression melted at his smile.  But it was gone as quickly as it came.

“But this doesn’t change anything,” She looked away from him, starting to walk on. “It doesn’t change what you did to me. It doesn’t change how much it hurts being around you. It doesn’t change the fact that Tallahassee—that all of it—was just a con to you.”

“Emma—” Neal started to say.

“Save it,” Emma said brusquely. “I have to get a room.”  She didn’t even glance behind her, walking up the steps of Granny’s, her pace quickening. 

Neal watched her go and turned as well.

He needed a drink.  


	4. Belief

Neal awoke to the sound of the clock tower, announcing the morning to the people of Storybrooke.  He rousted himself out of bed, the remnants of his dream slipping away, yawning tiredly.  Hadn’t Henry mentioned that the clock tower had stopped working?  Because of the curse?  If so, the clock’s jovial chimes seemed promising. 

Throwing on a pair of jeans and a charcoal button-down, he blearily exited his room, in search of coffee.  He headed down the steps towards the diner, walking through the door.  He got a few stares as he took a seat at a booth—apparently strangers in Storybrooke were not common place.  It made him uncomfortable, as he’d gained a certain comfort in being anonymous, and the last thing he needed was unwarranted attention—particularly given  _his_ past. 

 “What can I get you?” The young waitress—he forgot her name—smiled at her charmingly.  She was pretty, with dark hair and a bright smile, showing as much skin as her uniform allowed. 

“Coffee,” Neal affirmed. “And I guess—bacon and eggs. Hashbrowns on the side.” 

The waitress jotted his order down.  “Very traditional. Classic looks good on you.”  She winked at him before skipping back to the kitchen and Neal blinked in response. 

“Hey, Dad!”

“Henry!” Neal said in surprise as his son strolled inside, taking a seat in front of him. “Don’t you have school?”

“Not for another half hour,” Henry reported. “Is Emma here yet?” 

Neal shook his head.  “Think she’s still asleep. I dunno, her room’s not near mine,” He eyed something in Henry’s hands. “What do you have, there?”

“Sidney Glass did an article on Emma,” Henry placed the newspaper neatly in front of him. “Not a lot about you, though…just a few lines…”

Neal skimmed it, caught the word ‘deadbeat’, and frowned.  So that was how Regina wanted to play it.  Fine with him.

“Everything’s going according to plan,” Henry said eagerly. “She’s staying! With a little help, she’ll be able to break the curse in no time!” 

Neal sighed.  “Curses usually aren’t that easy, Henry,” He said honestly. “They’re incredibly complex to make and even harder to cast—especially one as big as this one. Breaking it will require the same kinda cost. All magic comes with a price you know, even good magic.” 

Henry drummed his fingers on the table thoughtfully.  “But she’s the Savior. It’s what she was meant for!”

“And it’s gonna take a lot of convincing for her to believe,” Neal told him.

“But she stayed!” Henry protested. “Why else would she have stayed if she didn’t believe?” 

Neal opened his mouth to answer but was briefly interrupted by the waitress setting down his food.  Henry helped himself to a strip of bacon and asked for the waitress—named Ruby, apparently—to bring him a hot chocolates with cinnamon. 

“Look, there’s Emma!” Henry whispered, noticing her enter the room.  Emma took a seat at the counter, her brow furrowing as she picked up the newspaper.

“Ruby, can you send Emma a hot chocolate with cinnamon too?” Henry requested and Ruby winked at him in assent.  They watched as Emma looked up in surprise at the drink and promptly stood, confronting the sheriff in one of the booths. 

“Ha, she thinks Graham sent it,” Henry laughed. “Why would she think that?”

Neal watched the two of them, something sinking in his gut.  There was a definite air of flirtation between them. 

“I didn’t send it,” Graham told her, looking a little amused. 

“I did!” Henry volunteered. “I like cinnamon too.”

Emma looked at him bemused.  “Don’t you have school?”  She glanced at Neal who shrugged in response.

"Duh,” Henry grinned. “I’m ten. Walk me.”  He hopped away from the booth, stealing one more strip of bacon off Neal’s plate.

“See ya later, Dad,” He whispered loudly. “Operation Cobra is a go!”  He strolled out the door with Emma in tow and Neal smiled in spite of himself.  Operation Cobra?  What did that have to do with fairytales? 

He stretched a little, continuing his breakfast, watching Emma and Henry walk down the street towards the bus stop.  Emma would be a tough nut to crack, but Henry was growing on her.  Henry was quickly becoming a priority in her life and he’d already climbed to the top of Neal’s list. 

His brow furrowed.  It just figured that the only person who would be able to offer him legal help was  _Rumplestiltskin._ The very thought of asking advice from his father, alone and aloof in that cold pawnshop, made his skin crawl.  A part of him was still urging him to flee Storybrooke, to forget this entire mess of magic, never mind his fervent desire to make things right with Emma.

But Henry.  Henry needed him.  Henry was his son and by the looks of things, Henry had no one else to rely on.  Everyone was under Regina’s control. 

Neal needed allies.  And unfortunately, the only ally he could think that might be willing to help was his…was the pawnbroker. 

With a sigh, he finished his meal, paid his bill, and walked out the door.

****

Mr. Gold was assisting a nun who looked extremely displeased to be in his shop.  Neal watched her give him a wad of cash with her lips pressed tightly together and stride out the door.  Gold looked his way to welcome and Neal watched him noticeably stiffen.

Something had changed.  The cool look of blankness was gone—his expression was still calculating, still methodical, but something had  _shifted_ in Rumplestiltskin.  As if—

No.  Neal was imagining things. 

“We meet again,” Mr. Gold said softly, tapping his fingers on his cane.  Neal swallowed hard.

“Yeah,” He cleared his throat. “I changed my mind. I wanted to talk to you about—about my legal rights. With Henry.”

The silence was unnerving.  Neal felt as though he were being  _scrutinized_ , as if he was being placed under a magnifying glass.  He repeatedly reminded himself that Gold had no idea who he was.

“Well,” Gold broke the quiet. “I’m sorry to tell you, there aren’t a lot of options for you.”

Neal’s heart sank.  “What do you mean?”

“I mean that unmarried fathers have very little say in these types of cases,” Gold explained smoothly, picking up a chipped teacup, beginning to polish it. “So if Miss Swan intends on reclaiming custody—”

“She’s not here for that,” Neal replied impatiently. “But I am. I didn’t even know I  _had_  a kid till about 48 hours ago. Doesn’t that make a difference?”

“Unfortunately not,” Gold replied, his eyes narrowing a bit. “The court doesn’t care if you weren’t aware of her pregnancy at the time. They will cite your leaving her as willful abandonment of her and the child.” 

Neal winced at the word ‘abandonment’.  To his surprise, Gold seemed a little…tense with the conversation as well.  As if he found Neal’s lack of options personally bothersome. 

“So what can I do?” Neal asked him.

“Depends on how badly you want your son,” Gold’s tone lowered a little. “What extremes you’d take to be with him.”

Neal frowned at him.  “I’d do anything,” He said firmly. 

“That’s what I like to hear,” Gold said softly. “All right. Why don’t you join me in the back? We can discuss further.”  He gestured for Neal to follow him.

The back of Gold’s shop was even more cluttered, if it was possible.  Neal took a seat across from a small coffee table, noticing uncomfortably that an old-fashioned spinning wheel was in the corner.  Gold took a seat as well.

“Now—to build our case,” His voice was still soft, muted.  Nothing like the theatrical Rumplestiltskin, who loved a flashy show. 

“Yeah?” Neal cleared his throat. 

“There have been cases that relied on federal protection for Native American children separated from their biological families. Do you have any native blood?”  Gold’s voice was mild but Neal saw the probing in his gaze.

He shook his head.  “No, I don’t. Emma doesn’t either, our families are…recent immigrants.”

For a long time, Gold observed him, as if waiting for Neal to reveal more.  But Neal Cassidy hadn’t lived this long to throw caution to the wind.  Even under the curse, this was still Rumplestiltskin.  All magic came with a price, all deals with Rumplestiltskin came with a price, and Neal was not willing to pay it. 

“Very well,” Gold said finally, a bit of a sigh in his voice. “The only other avenue to explore is to prove that Regina is an unfit parent. If you can prove that, you may be able to gain custody of the lad as a foster parent and eventually adopt him.” 

Something lurched inside Neal.  There was no question in Neal’s mind that he wanted to get Henry away from Regina, that he wanted to ensure Henry’s safety and welfare, and if that meant adopting him…still.  He couldn’t deny it, there was a part of Neal that  _feared_  this onslaught of responsibility.  Would he be any good at being a full-time father?  He had Rumplestiltskin’s blood…perhaps he had the same cowardice, the same darkness…

His phone buzzed and Neal stood, answering it.  “Hello?”

“Hey Dad!” Henry’s voice chirped on the other line. “Whatcha doing?”

Neal glanced at Mr. Gold.  “Nothing, kid, just some…family business.”

“Cool,” Henry replied. “Just wanted to let you know that Regina arrested Emma but it’s okay ‘cause Mary Margaret’s gonna bail her out. We’re on our way to the station now!”

“She did  _what_?!” Neal said incredulously. “Okay. I’ll be there soon.”  He shut off his phone and turned towards Gold.

“That woman is a piece of work,” He muttered. “All right. I’ll be in touch.”  Gold nodded towards him, still in that disconcerting, scrutinizing way and Neal left the back of the shop.

****

By the time Neal reached the sheriff’s office, Emma had been bailed out.  He ruffled Henry’s hair affectionately before storming into the office, where Sheriff Graham was sipping a cup of coffee.

“Why was Emma arrested?” He demanded by way of greeting. 

Graham sighed, rubbing his temples slightly.  “Archie Hopper called it in. He said they’d had a bit of a row and she demanded Henry’s files.”

“Oh, come on, you don’t believe that,” Neal said in disgust. 

“You’re right, I don’t,” Graham said rather sourly and Neal blinked in surprise. 

“Then—why did you arrest her?” Neal crossed his arms.

“Didn’t really have much of a choice when it’s Archie’s word against hers,” Graham replied. “Particularly when the mayor is backing him.” 

“Jesus,” Neal ran his fingers through his hair distractedly.  Before he could respond, Graham’s phone rang.

“Yes?” Graham answered, listening.  His brows pinched together. “All right. I’ll be there soon.”  He hung up and sighed. 

“What’s up?” Neal asked, noting the expression.

“Emma. Apparently she took it upon herself to maul Regina’s favorite apple tree with a chainsaw,” Graham smothered a grin and Neal felt a burst of affection for both Emma and Graham.

“Yeah, that sounds like Emma,” Neal smirked. “You gonna arrest her again?”

“I’m going to try and talk Regina out of that, as it won’t do much good,” Graham stood, grabbing his jacket. “Look, Neal. I know it’s not my place and I know Regina signs my paychecks, but the fact is, if this escalates further—the only one who gets hurt will be—”

“Henry,” Neal nodded in agreement. “You’re right. I’m sure Emma knows you’re right.”

The two men looked at each other and Neal felt an air of understanding pass through them both.  In a strange way, Graham was a kindred spirit.  He thought of Graham and Emma laughing together that morning and shifted uncomfortably. 

“I’ll be back,” Graham went towards the door. “Just—help me play mediator, will you?”

Neal snorted.  “Emma and I aren’t exactly friendly. You’ll have better luck with that than me.”  Graham nodded at that response and Neal’s throat lurched as the sheriff exited the room.

****

There was a loud knock on Neal’s door. 

Pushing aside his second cheeseburger, Neal hauled himself off the couch and went to the door.  When he opened it, his heart stopped.  Henry was standing there, crying. 

“Whoa, kid! What’s the matter?” Neal ushered his son inside. 

Henry wiped his eyes.  “It’s stupid. The whole thing is stupid. She doesn’t believe me, she thinks I’m crazy!”

“Hey, hey,” Neal placed his hands on Henry’s shoulders. “What happened?”

“She was talking to my mom—I have dinner with my mom on Thursdays before I talk to Archie—and Emma said I was crazy!” His eyes filled with tears. 

Neal hugged him warmly.  Henry burrowed his head into Neal’s chest and he gently stroked his hair.  He was almost sure of it, positive that Regina had somehow orchestrated this little setup and it disgusted him.  She really didn’t care  _how_  she got them out of town, even if it broke Henry’s heart.

“It’s all right, Henry,” He said gently. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“But she doesn’t believe me!”

“I believe you,” Neal said firmly. “And we’re gonna figure this out.”

Henry looked at him miserably.  “How do I know? What if you’re just pretending like Emma is?”

Neal sighed.  “Okay. Here’s the truth, Henry. I told you that I believed you because I was in that book, because I was from that land. That’s still the truth.”

Henry watched him reproachfully.

“My name—” Neal took a deep breath. “My name is Baelfire.”

The name felt strange on his tongue due to lack of use.  But Henry’s eyes widened in recognition.  He  _knew_  that name, knew that Neal hadn’t had time to read the book all the way through—he wasn’t making it up.  Neal believed in him and that meant everything to Henry. 

“I gotta go,” Henry glanced at the time. “I’m late for my meeting with Archie.”

“Okay,” Neal gave him another hug. “Cut Emma some slack. She won’t let you down, I promise.”  Henry’s face darkened at the mention of Emma but he left the hotel room peaceably. 

Neal collapsed onto the couch exhausted.  Regina was going to make this as difficult as possible, for all of them.  He’d made a shaky ally with the cursed version of Rumplestiltskin—time would tell if that was a fatal mistake.  In this world, Rumplestiltskin was cursed, cursed to be Mr. Gold, but something about him had  _shifted_  today, as if—as if—

As if he were more self-aware. 

What would happen?  What would happen if Rumplestiltskin realized who he was?  Would he recognize Neal? 

Distractedly, he paced the room, idly looking out the window.  He saw something shift in the forest, something that looked like a large animal—maybe a stray dog—and tapped his fingers on the windowsill. 

Had Neal procured a room with a town view, he would’ve seen Mr. Gold striding down the street, headed for Regina Mills’ home.  He would’ve seen the quiet pawnbroker pause briefly in front of Granny’s inn, staring up at the windows, before continuing on his way.


	5. Moving Day

Neal frowned at the newspaper, taking a sip of coffee.  He sat on a park bench in one of the more scenic areas of the town, pen in hand.  Storybrooke’s classified section was sparse, with hardly any apartments or houses for rent and even less jobs that were hiring.  This shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him, after all, the methodical Regina would’ve set up her little kingdom so there was no room for interlopers. 

He couldn’t stay at Granny’s inn forever.  Emma had already gotten kicked out because of some “no felons” rule that Regina had come up with.  The Evil Queen appeared to be focusing her attentions on Emma, obviously not seeing Neal as much of a threat.  But that wouldn’t last long, especially since Neal was gearing up to fight her tooth and nail.  

He had a little bit saved and Heidelberg Associates had been informed of his quick absence, citing a family emergency.  But he wouldn’t last long unless he found a job. 

“Not much for headlines.”

Neal jerked at the sound of Mr. Gold’s voice.  The pawnbroker’s hand twisted idly on his cane.

“But I’m sure Sidney’s articles will improve substantially, if not factually,” Gold continued, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Newcomers have that effect on a small town.” 

“I’m not exactly into current events,” Neal resisted the urge to snap. “Just thumbing through the classifieds.”

“Job-hunting?” Gold asked airily.

“Something like that,” Neal muttered, folding his newspaper. 

“You know,” Gold said benevolently. “As luck would have it, I’ve a…rather irresponsible tenant who has become delinquent with their rent. An eviction will be forthcoming. If you’re interested, I could lease the apartment out to you.” 

Neal’s blood ran cold.  Something about the light and airy tone of the pawnbroker sent a chill down his spine—Rumplestiltskin never performed favors without a price. 

“I think your apartments are a little out of my price range,” He replied dryly and Gold chuckled in response. 

“Perhaps so,” He acknowledged. “However, I’d be willing to severely discount the rate—provided you take up employment at my shop.” 

Neal’s eyes widened.  “Work at your shop?”

“I could use a little help,” Gold said smoothly. “Greeting guests, stocking shelves, delivering merchandise, that sort of thing. Nothing too backbreaking.” 

Neal’s throat tightened.  Gold was watching him closely, perhaps to gauge his reaction, and it was all Neal could do not to throw up.  Did he  _know_?  Did he suspect?  Why would he ask for Neal to work for him?  His thoughts swam frantically and he tried to remain calm. 

“Appreciate the offer,” Neal cleared his throat. “But I think I’m good. I’ve got…another offer in mind.”  It was a flat lie and from the way Gold stiffened, Neal knew that the pawnbroker was not fooled.

“If you’re sure,” Gold said softly. “Let me know if you change your mind.”  He nodded a little curtly at Neal before gracefully walking off.  Neal watched him go, releasing the first he’d been clenching.  Something was definitely different about his father.  His interest in Neal was disconcerting and dangerous—and the last thing Neal needed was for the pawnbroker to discover who he actually was.

“Hey Dad!”

“Henry!” Neal said in relief as his son plopped next to him on the bench. “Boy, are you a sight for sore eyes.” 

Henry examined his newspaper, fingering the scribbles.  “What are you doing?”

“Looking for a place to live,” Neal admitted. “Can’t live in a hotel forever.”

His son lit up.  “So you’re gonna move here? Permanently?” 

“For now,” Neal corrected.   _If I could get Henry out of here…I will._

“Awesome!” Henry cheered. “Well, I wanted to update you on Operation Cobra. I’m gonna try and find Emma’s dad.” 

Neal blinked.  “Her dad? The prince?”

“Right,” Henry affirmed. “She’s already found her mom—Mary Margaret. Now we just have to—”

“Mary Margaret’s her mom? Your teacher?” Neal’s head began to pound.  Mary Margaret and Emma both looked about the same age. 

“She’s Snow White, can’t you tell?” Henry asked crossly and Neal had to admit, there was a resemblance between his teacher and the illustration in the storybook.  Not to mention, now that Neal thought about it, a striking similarity between Emma’s features and Mary Margaret’s…

“So where do you think Prince Charming is?” Neal asked, carefully keeping the irony out of his voice.

His son shrugged.  “I dunno. But we gotta find him and we gotta be secret about it. If the Evil Queen finds out what we’re up to…it won’t be good.” 

Neal smiled grimly.  “Sounds like a plan, kid. You let me know if you find him, I’ll keep my eyes peeled.” 

Henry nodded and Neal immediately noticed the quizzical expression form on his son’s face.  He looked for the world like Emma, when she had something to say but didn’t know how to say it. 

“What’s up?” Neal prompted.

“What about your dad?” Henry asked, a little meekly. “Do you want to find him?”

The story of how Rumplestiltskin earned his powers—by choosing the Dark One’s dagger over his son—was well told in the storybook.  But Henry had apparently not realized that Rumplestiltskin and Mr. Gold were the same character.  Not that Neal could blame him, the outlandish and flourished Rumplestiltskin was a strikingly different persona than the cool, calculating Mr. Gold.  Nevertheless, this was one fairytale secret Neal had no intention of revealing. 

“No, kid,” Neal shook his head. “It’s best if me and my old man don’t see each other.”

Henry’s shoulders slumped.  “Are you sure? He might miss you. He might feel really bad for losing you—”

“Henry,” Neal said quietly. “No. The reason I’m here is to help you and help Emma find her family. You just gotta leave me out of it, okay?”

“But what about  _your_  family?” Henry protested. “I want you to have a happily ever after too!”

Neal smiled at him and squeezed his shoulders.  “If you and Emma break the curse and Emma finds her parents, that will be my happily ever after,” He said gently. “You guys are my first priority.” 

Henry sighed.  “Okay. I gotta get to school, I’m late—we have a field trip, we’re gonna decorate the hospital,” He hugged his father. “See you later!”  He scampered off towards the bus stop and Neal folded his newspaper, none too carefully. 

Henry was clever.  Neal couldn’t keep the fact that Rumplestiltskin was Mr. Gold a secret from him forever—but it was just too dangerous otherwise.  Gold had an agenda, a dangerous agenda, and Neal would  _not_  let him drag his son into it.

XXXX

_The woods are lovely dark and deep, but I have promises to keep…_

Neal couldn’t get the lines of a well-loved Robert Frost poem out of his head.  As he tramped past the Troll Bridge, the leaves crunching underneath his shoes, he tried to ignore the intense feeling of  _home_. 

He had grown up near a forest.  Green fields had interrupted the woods’ cool shade, the damp smell of earth and wind rushing against the leaves was familiar.  There was beauty in the woods, but always danger, his papa had warned him never to stray into the woods after dark for fear of the ogres and creatures that dwelt within.  He had never been afraid of the woods, despite his father’s fears…

The sudden urge to explore the woods had overwhelmed him after breakfast, though he made sure to stay away from the beach.  Something about the way the waves sounded when they crashed against the shore made him long for Tallahassee, and the regret and pain would become unbearable.  So he stuck to the woods, following some of the lesser known trails, keeping his eyes on his watch.  There was isolation here, and it was a comfort.  The hazy enchantment choked the town of Storybrooke, but his thoughts were slightly clearer in the forest. 

“You’re on private property.”

“Geez!” Neal exploded whipping around. “What is it with people sneaking up on me today?”

A man, dressed in well-tailored clothes, laughed a little.  He was a little taller than Neal and had a friendly, relaxed air about him.  But there was something slightly off about the stranger, something that disconcerted Neal.  The man’s eyes seemed…hunted. 

“Pardon me for startling you,” The stranger tilted his head. “I don’t get many visitors this far in the woods—particularly trespassers.”

“I’m sorry,” Neal cleared his throat. “I was just taking a hike in the woods. Didn’t really keep track of where I was going.”

The stranger eyed him.  “You’re new in town.”

“Yeah,” Neal replied uncomfortably. “My name’s Neal Cassidy, I uh…I’m Henry’s biological father. He—invited me up here.”

Something rather manic glittered in the stranger’s eyes.  “Is that so? The same Henry who brought back Emma Swan?”

“Yeah,” Neal folded his arms.

A broad smile crossed the man’s face.  “Do forgive me. My name’s Jefferson—I own a little land out here and while I don’t get many visitors, gossip travels fast in Storybrooke. I was looking forward to paying a call to Miss Swan. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance first.”  He outstretched his hand and Neal shook it cautiously. 

“So,” Jefferson gestured forward, inviting Neal to walk with him. “May I ask how long you’re staying here?”

“I dunno,” Neal cleared his throat. “As long as—I’m needed, I guess.”

“Keeping an eye on your son?” Jefferson’s voice became strange. “A worthy objective.”

“Yeah, well, that all depends on how long I can keep the mayor off my back,” Neal cleared his throat. “Not exactly real estate heaven here.”

“You know,” Jefferson said thoughtfully. “If you’re looking for a place to stay…my property’s rather old, there are several buildings on the land. One used to be a servants’ quarters. I’d be happy to rent it out to you. I’d make an easier landlord than Mr. Gold or Madam Mayor, I can assure you.”  The words seemed a little eager for Neal’s liking.  But if it came down to accepting accommodation between an odd stranger and his father…

“I think I’d be interested,” Neal cleared his throat. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” Jefferson said smoothly. “Although I’ll admit to you, I could use a little help maintaining the place. It’s a long walk to Storybrooke for groceries and the post office…”

Neal’s eyes narrowed.  It seemed to be the same deal Rumplestiltskin had offered him—a room in exchange for favors performed for the landlord.  There was no earthly reason that Neal should trust Jefferson over Rumplestiltskin, but strangely enough, there was an unexplainable feeling of kinship with him.  He couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow, Regina had cursed this man too, in a particularly painful way, forcing him into the isolation of the woods…

“All right,” Neal swallowed. “You got yourself a tenant.”

XXXX

Jefferson was clearly not to be trusted.  He had the same unnerving air that Rumplestiltskin had, as if he knew more than the rest of the town.  But the difference was, Neal had no past history with Jefferson—at least, none that he could recall.  He had no idea who he was in the fairytale world and however disconcerting it was to be around him, it was better than being in close quarters with his father. 

Still, the way Jefferson looked at him…as though he were a  _bargaining chip_ of some sort…

Using the ancient dinosaur of a computer at the inn, Neal managed to arrange having his things shipped to him.  There was a county road that winded around the woods, eventually leading to a large, dignified house that could’ve held fifteen.  That was something else to be concerned about—Jefferson had remarked that he lived alone, so why on earth did he have so much space? 

The old servants’ quarters had once been a hunting cabin.  The windows were wide and sloping, giving Neal the uncomfortable feeling of being _watched_ , though he was far enough in the woods to only be spied on by deer.  Unless Jefferson took a page out of Jimmy Stewart’s book, that is…

It would be a while before the rest of Neal’s possessions arrived.  He was lucky that he’d thought to pack that first day, when Henry showed up on his doorstep.  He imagined Emma wouldn’t be quite as lucky. 

When evening fell, Jefferson invited him to the main house for a drink, to celebrate his new occupancy.  Neal was tempted to turn him down but couldn’t find a way to do so without being rude—Jefferson didn’t have to rent a house out to him and if he hadn’t, Neal would’ve been forced to turn to his father.  That was something he simply could not do. 

So when the moon rose, Neal tramped his way up to the mansion, shivering a little in the cold.  Jefferson greeted him warmly.

“How are you settling in?” He asked conversationally. “And what’s your poison?”

“Whatever you got,” Neal answered distractedly. “Whiskey, beer, wouldn’t say no to a good scotch…”  He scanned the parlor, searching for any items that might give him a clue to Jefferson’s identity.  He’d been wondering where the character had come from, if he had any connection to anyone in Neal’s life. 

“So,” Jefferson took the large armchair by the fire after handing Neal a glass tumbler. “Tell me about yourself.”

Neal shrugged.  “Not much to tell, to be honest,” He said carefully. “Found out I had a son. Want to be a part of his life, so I’m in Storybrooke—for the time being.”

Jefferson smiled darkly.  “It’s an incredible town,” He said with something of a sneer in his voice. “Everything you could possibly want—forest, ocean, small town charm—”

“Ruled with an iron fist,” Neal undercut and Jefferson laughed. 

“Ah, Regina,” He said and Neal noticed how Jefferson’s hands twitched, as if grasping for something. “A woman of many talents. She’s quite the sense of humor, don’t you think?” 

“I’m not a fan of her parenting skills,” Neal muttered, taking a sip of his drink. 

“And neither am I!” Jefferson cried out suddenly, causing Neal to spill slightly. “No, no, Regina’s mothering leaves something to be desired. I used to pity her boy—but now Henry has you to look after him. His father. A child needs his father.” 

Jefferson’s face drew near his, expression filled with manic intensity.  “A child needs his father,” He hissed and Neal stared at him, bile rising in his throat.  Jefferson wasn’t talking about Henry—was he in league with Rumplestiltskin?  Did he know Neal’s identity? 

Jefferson backed away from him, downing his drink.  “You’d do anything, wouldn’t you,” He muttered towards the fireplace. “To get your son back. To get him out of Regina’s control. Isn’t that right?”

“Yeah,” Neal said levelly. “I would.”  He caught Jefferson’s stare and matched it, refusing to give an inch.  Jefferson’s features relaxed into an easy grin. 

“Good,” He said casually. “Because when it comes down to it—you’ll want me on your side, Neal.”

“Your side for what?” Neal asked suspiciously.

“Oh, this and that,” Jefferson said airily. “I’m a better ally than an enemy. And if you help me—I’ll help you.” 

Talking to Jefferson was similar to running in a dream—it felt nonsensical, surreal, as if Neal was missing part of the picture.  But there was something genuine about Jefferson that allowed Neal to take him at his word. 

For now, at least.

****

The following days were sunny and Neal grumpily discovered that the distance between his new residence and the center of town would be something of an inconvenience.  Still, he would have to make the best of it and be sure to stay in town long enough to keep an eye on his son—and Emma for that matter.

“Getting arrested already?” Neal remarked, heading over towards her.  The sheriff had pulled over next to her, sirens blazing, cheekily having a word with her. 

“Hmph,” Emma pressed her lips together. “He was offering me a job.”

“As a cop?” Neal’s eyebrows rose. “Deputy Swan—now there’s some irony.”

She rounded.  “What, you don’t think I could do it?”

“Course not,” Neal cracked a grin. “You gotta admit though, it’s kinda funny. About as funny as me becoming an accountant.”

Emma started a little.  “You became an accountant?”

“Yep,” Neal scratched his head. “Numbers are easier than people. Wanted something safe, boring, something that would keep me out of trouble—accounting it was.” 

She watched him for a while.  To Neal’s surprise, she gave him a half-hearted smile.

“Guess that didn’t last long,” She gestured vaguely, referencing the town.  Neal chuckled in response. 

“Guess not,” He agreed. “You find a place to live?”

“Yeah,” Emma affirmed. “You know Mary Margaret, Henry’s teacher? She’s letting me take her spare room.” 

Mary Margaret.  The woman Henry claimed was Emma’s mother—well that was kismet.  He wondered if per Henry’s plan, they’d managed to find her father as well. 

“Feel like getting breakfast?” Emma asked suddenly. “We should hash some stuff out.”

Neal looked at her in surprise and agreed.

****

“So, where are you living?” Emma coughed into her hand, perhaps to cover up her discomfort.  Neal took a sip of coffee.

“Kinda out in the boonies,” He replied. “Found a cabin for rent in the woods…little far, but it’ll do.”

Emma eyed him critically.  “How long-term are you thinking of being here?”

“However long it takes,” Neal said evenly, his fingers curling around his mug. “Same as you.”

She sighed impatiently.  “Neal, you know I’m not interested in custody of Henry.”

“You’ll have a hard time convincing Regina of that,” Neal pointed out. “And even if you aren’t—I am.”

Her lips twisted.  “You really wanna go up against her? She’s got a stick up her ass, that’s for sure, but do you really think…do you really think Henry’s in danger? Being around her?”

Neal hesitated.  There was only so much he could tell Emma, without her thinking he was insane.  From her perspective, Regina was an overly defensive mother, a strict, intolerant mother—but abusive?  It remained to be seen. 

“I don’t trust her,” Neal said carefully. “Not with Henry at least. And it matters to me to be a part of Henry’s life.”

Emma wilted a little.  “It matters to me too,” She said quietly. “But we gotta—we gotta keep an eye on him. He’s all over the place, you should’ve seen what he pulled the other night—”

"What do you mean?” Neal asked with a frown.

Her cheeks blew out a little.  “Oh, you know, his weird fairytale thing. He thought that this John Doe in the hospital was Mary Margaret’s true love—her prince charming, I guess. Weird thing was, he woke up shortly after and kind of led me, Graham, and Mary Margaret on a wild goose chase in the middle of the woods…and the kid would  _not_  go home, he insisted on coming with us…”

Neal shook his head disapprovingly.

“Anyway, turns out this guy had a wife, Kathryn Nolan. Really kinda crushed Henry’s hopes, he’s got a thing for matchmaking, I guess…only problem is, I think Mary Margaret got a little swept up in it,” Emma sighed leaning her head on her writs.  Ruby paused at their table and placed a cup of hot chocolate before Emma. 

Neal smiled at her as she took a sip.  Head cocked, she asked, “What?”

“Nothing,” He said quietly. “It’s just…I think this is the first pleasant conversation we’ve had.” 

Her expression flickered into shades of fear, vulnerability, and perhaps longing—but before she could respond, Regina stopped by their table. 

“How was your walk with Henry?” She asked Emma conversationally, completely ignoring Neal’s existence. “That’s right—I know everything. But relax. I don’t mind.”

“You don’t?” Emma asked in surprise.

“No,” Regina said smoothly. “Because you no longer worry me, Miss Swan. You see, I did a little digging into who you are. And what I found out was quite soothing. It all comes down to the number seven.”

“Seven?” Emma asked startled.

“It’s the number of addresses you’ve had in the last decade. Your longest in anywhere was two years. Really, what did you enjoy so much about Tallahassee?”

Neal’s hand twitched involuntarily, sending a fork flying off the table, landing with a loud clatter.  Emma did not acknowledge the noise, her eyes fixed on Regina.

“If you were wondering,” She said carefully. “I did find a place here in town.”

“I know,” Regina stifled a laugh. “With Miss Blanchard. How long is your lease? Oh, wait. You don’t have one. You see my point? In order for something to grow, Miss Swan, it needs roots. And you? Don’t have any. People don’t change. They only fool themselves into believing they can.”

“You don’t know me,” Emma said through gritted teeth. 

“No, I think I do,” Regina purred. “All I ask, is as you carry on your transient life, you think of Henry and what’s best for him. Perhaps consider a clean break. It’s going to happen anyway. Enjoy your cocoa.”  She stood and exited the diner regally.  Angrily, Emma made to stand.

“Emma—” Neal started to say.

“Don’t,” She snapped and in her haste, she overturned her cocoa all over herself.  Sighing in frustration, she swore under her breath.

“Here, let me—” Neal tried to hand her some napkins but she swatted him away.

“Leave me alone,” Her voice was harsh, unforgiving.  Regina had revealed a vulnerability Emma was not willing to own up to and Neal felt a lump in his throat swell.  Tallahassee.  Emma had spent two years in Tallahassee. 

Obeying her request, Neal left their table and walked out the door.

****

Neal spent the rest the day familiarizing himself with the rest of town.  The library had been closed for quite some time it seemed, a shame—he could’ve used some help doing research.  He tried to give the pawnshop a wide berth though, without his ever trying, he kept being drawn back to it.  There were  _things_  in that pawnshop, possessions of the residents of Storybrooke, fragments of their forgotten lives. 

Right as he started to head towards his car to make the drive back into the woods, he got a phone call from Jefferson, letting him know his possessions had arrived safely at the house.  He thanked his new landlord for signing for them and right as he hung up his phone, he noticed an odd shadow outside of Gold’s shop. 

Something prickled down his spine.  He tried to convince himself to leave it be, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.  His father was perfectly capable of taking care of himself…right?


	6. The Price of Neal

The very last thing Neal wanted to do was to check on his father.

He had a thousand things to do that night—he had to unpack his suitcases and boxes, he had to hook up an ancient form of dial-up (there seemed to be no wifi providers near Storybrooke) to get his computer running, not to mention his new cabin was in desperate need of a thorough scrub down.

Gold could take care of himself. Neal knew this. But he couldn’t quite escape the overwhelming feeling of responsibility that passed through him, an emotion he’d forgotten about until he’d come to Storybrooke. When he was young, he’d felt responsible for Rumplestiltskin, instead of the other way around—his father was too weak, too cowardly, too lame to be counted upon. He had loved him passionately, of course—but Neal had felt responsible for him…

Realizing he’d get absolutely no sleep if he didn’t at least look into the shop window, he sighed and turned away from his car, heading towards the shop door. To his surprise, it was slightly ajar. 

Swallowing a little, he stepped inside. “Gold? You in here?” He called out, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. He stepped on something hard that crunched under his feet—some items had fallen from the shelves. 

“Gold?” Neal tried again. “Your door was open. What’s—” He was answered by a pained groan. His heart hammering inside his chest, he darted towards the source, finding Gold lying on the ground, a nasty scrape across the side of his forehead. 

“You okay?” Neal asked alarmed, helping him to stand. “Geez, what happened?” 

Gold hissed in pain as he leaned against the counter. Feeling a burst of concern towards his father’s bum leg, Neal knelt down and picked up his cane, handing it over. 

“Thank you,” Gold took a deep breath. “I had a visitor tonight. After hours.” He winced as he headed towards the open safe, rifling through some of the papers. 

Neal’s lips twisted. “You called the sheriff?”

“No,” Gold replied smoothly. “In any case, I believe Sheriff Humbert has…other plans tonight.” 

“Well, whatever,” Neal said impatiently. “I’m surprised you of all people don’t wanna press charges.” He went behind the counter and started to hunt for a first aid kit. He didn’t find much, but smiled grimly when he withdrew a small bottle of bactine spray. He found a clean cloth and sprayed it lightly. 

“This’ll sting,” He said conversationally and Gold winced when Neal pressed the cloth to the side of his head. “So who was it anyway?” 

“A young lady who does not understand the binding terms of a contract,” Gold said in a low voice. Once Neal was finished with his ministrations, he retreated behind the counter, finding a small butterfly bandage. 

“Nevertheless,” Gold sighed. “She is quite young. I would prefer not to subject her to the horrors of a county jail so young in life. I believe I will ask Miss Swan to assist.” 

Neal stiffened. “What’d you say?” 

“Miss Swan,” Gold repeated. “I’ve heard she’s adept at tracking people down. Her services could be quite useful.” 

“Hey,” Neal growled. “Leave Emma out of your crap, Gold.” 

His father regarded him with a cool gaze. “You seem a bit disturbed at the idea. May I ask why? I don’t believe I’ve done anything to warrant such a hostile reaction. Indeed, I thought you’d be pleased that I could provide employment for her.” 

“Emma can take care of herself,” Neal snapped. “I mean it, Gold—stay away from her.” He turned brusquely and exited the shop. 

XXXX 

Neal knew with certainty, however much he might snarl and bluster, there was an extremely high likelihood that Gold would utilize Emma’s services, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. He had a feeling that warning Emma about Gold’s unscrupulous nature would have little to no effect and technically, Neal still required Gold’s services to get Henry out of Regina’s custody. 

He spent the next day unpacking, attempting to convince himself not to barge into Mary Margaret’s apartment and beg Emma to give Gold a wide berth. In a sense, Regina was easier to deal with than Gold—Neal knew Regina’s motivations clearly at this point. Keep control over Henry, rule her cursed, enchanted kingdom of Storybrooke, and do everything in her power to bring down Emma. A tall order, to be sure, but an understood order. 

What was Rumplestiltskin’s endgame? What were his motivations? Why did he allow himself to be cursed, why did he remain in Storybrooke? He must’ve made some kind of deal with the Evil Queen, which would explain his comfortable living and why everyone in town feared him. But he had to have had more in mind than riches and power. 

Neal was abruptly shaken form his thoughts by a knock on the door. Sighing, he put his box of kitchen things down and opened the door. 

Henry grinned at him. “Hey, Dad! Nice place!” 

“Hey, Henry,” Neal said, a little perplexed. “I didn’t know you knew where to find me…kind of a long walk…” 

“It sure is,” Henry agreed. “You should’ve stayed at the hotel longer. But that’s okay, I like walking in the forest. Is this all your stuff?” He looked impressed towards the scattered boxes, taking a seat on the couch while he rifled through one. 

“Cool!” Henry said, withdrawing a dreamcatcher. “Where’d you get this?” 

“Hey, careful with that,” Neal warned. “It’s kinda old. I got it…I got it in Oregon.” He took the dreamcatcher, fingering its edges lightly. Reverently, he went to his window and gently hung it up. 

_“It’s a Native American dreamcatcher. It’s supposed to keep all the nightmares out and only let the good dreams in to protect your home.”_

_“It’s flypaper for nightmares? Let’s keep it.”_

Henry watched the ritual. “Were you with Emma when you got that?” He asked quietly. 

Neal sighed. Henry was too damn smart for his own good. 

“Where does Regina think you’re at?” Neal asked, turning around and crossing his arms. 

“Home,” Henry said carelessly. “But I wanted to see you and Emma tonight. Will you go with me to Mary Margaret’s? I wanna hang out with you both.” 

Neal gave him a half-smile and ruffled his hair. “I like hanging out with you too, kid. I can’t tonight, but go keep her company. She’ll be glad to see you.” 

“Please?” Henry wheedled. “I was thinking we could all get hot chocolate.” 

Neal shook his head. “Emma’s not ready for that,” He said firmly. “She won’t wanna be around me and you. But that shouldn’t stop you. Go hang out with her—just make sure you’re back at your house before Regina gets home. Where is the Evil Queen today, anyway?” 

Henry shrugged. “I dunno. Sometimes she leaves for business meetings.” 

Neal frowned. Regina left Henry alone at their house far too often for his liking, probably arrogantly believing that with her control over the curse, no one would dare break in. But it didn’t show much for her parenting skills that she was so neglectful. 

“C’mon, kid,” Neal said gruffly. “I’ll walk you back.” 

XXXX 

Mary Margaret’s apartment was a cute little place in one of the older buildings in Storybrooke. Neal dropped him off at the front, ruffling his hair affectionately as Henry entered. Once the doors had closed, he turned around, intending on walking to Granny’s for a drink before he started the long walk back. But right as he took a few steps forward, the doors opened once more. He turned towards the noise and was outraged to see Gold calmly walk outside. 

“What the—Gold!” Neal shouted, charging towards him. Gold stopped short and raised his eyebrow. 

“What are you doing here?” Neal wanted to know. 

“What am I doing at a building I own?” Gold pondered. “Shouldn’t the question be, what are you doing here? Considering you’re not a resident.” He smiled at him toothily and Neal clenched his fists. 

“I was walking Henry back here,” He snapped. “He wanted to see Emma.” 

“As did I,” Gold inclined his head. “I did mention that I intended on employing Miss Swan’s services for this matter.” 

“And I told you to leave her out of it!” Neal snarled. 

His father regarded him coolly. “Is there a particular reason I should do as you ask?” He said quietly. “Aside from idle posturing.” 

Neal said nothing. 

“As I thought,” Gold said smoothly. “I suggest you leave Miss Swan to handle her own affairs. She is more than capable.” He nodded and as if on cue, the doors to Mary Margaret’s apartment opened and Emma came striding out. Neal turned away from his father, jogging to catch up with her. 

She stopped short when she noticed Neal. “What are you doing here?” 

“I was dropping Henry off here when I ran into Mr. Gold,” Neal said anxiously. “Please tell me you’re not going to work for him.” 

“Please let me help!” Henry begged. 

“No! No, it could be dangerous,” Emma told him firmly. “Yes, I am, Neal, and I don’t have time to debate the issue.” 

“The pregnant maid is dangerous?” Henry asked skeptically. 

“What pregnant maid?” Neal asked bewildered. 

“She assaulted Mr. Gold, she broke in and stole something from him,” Emma explained hurriedly. “This isn’t a game. She’s desperate!” 

“Cool!” Henry said and Neal felt a burst of affection for his son. “How do you know she’s desperate?” 

Emma glanced at Neal and then back at Henry. “Because I know.” 

Neal exhaled slowly. “All right. I’ll go with you. Don’t argue,” He held up his hands at Emma’s inevitable protest. “We’ll find the girl and get her out of Gold’s clutches. All right?” 

Emma’s lips twisted and she opened her mouth to debate that point, but Henry interrupted. 

“Where should we look first?” Henry asked reasonably. 

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no,” Emma whirled towards her son. “There’s no ‘we’. You can’t come with us.” 

“Then I’ll look for her myself,” Henry retorted. 

“Henry!” Neal ran his fingers through his hair. 

Emma set her lip stubbornly. “Then I’ll find you and bring you back.” 

“Then you wouldn’t be helping the maid,” Henry pointed out. 

“Then  _I’ll_  find you and bring you back,” Neal folded his arms. “Seriously kid, you need to go home. This isn’t something to mess around with!” 

Emma pinched her brows. “I’m just trying to be responsible here,” She said in frustration. 

“And I’m trying to spend time with you both,” Henry opened the car door and took a seat. Neal sighed loudly. 

“Oh, that is really not fair,” Emma grumbled. She looked at Neal, as if coming to a decision, and jerked her head towards the car. Neal obeyed, circling around towards the passenger seat.   She wanted him to come in case she needed to lose Henry quickly—Neal could be counted on to bring Henry back if things got dicey. 

It was a small modicum of trust granted to him, and Neal was grateful for it. 

XXXX 

“So this boyfriend of hers,” Emma folded her arms against her chest. “You don’t think he was involved in her disappearance?” 

The maid’s name was Ashley Boyd. She wasn’t relatively well-known around town, but had a few close friends, one of them being Neal’s regular waitress, Ruby. Ruby had nearly refused to talk to them, more concerned on her car repairs than answering Emma’s questions. Still, she sighed dramatically and acknowledged Emma’s query. 

“Uh, that would mean he was involved with her at all, which he isn’t.” She said wryly, disgust coloring her tone. “Left her in the lurch, right after they found out they were expecting. Hasn’t spoken to her since. Like I said—” 

Ruby was briefly interrupted by the clunk of her car, while Billy frantically readjusted his tools, apologizing to her profusely. The waitress seemed more concerned with her glass wolf decoration than her car. 

“Um, Ruby,” Emma recaptured her attention. “What about her family?” 

“Oh, um, she’s got a stepmom and two stepsisters she doesn’t talk to,” Ruby replied. Neal winced. This girl really was alone. 

“Wait,” Henry piped up. “Stepmom, stepsisters, and she’s a maid?” 

“Henry, not now,” Emma muttered but Neal glanced at his son. Henry was right…this sounded an awful lot like a very familiar fairytale… 

“Look, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but it’s wrong,” Ruby announced. “Everyone thinks she’s not ready to have this kid, but she’s trying. Taking night classes, trying to better herself—trying to get her life together. Can you understand that?” 

Emma’s expression darkened. “I think so.” 

“Then maybe you should just stay out of it,” Ruby advised. “She’s been through enough already.” 

“I’ve been through it too, Ruby, and I can help her,” Emma protested. Her expression remained taut, determined. This hit close to home with her. Neal couldn’t help but wonder if Emma regretted giving up Henry—even a little bit. He wished she’d believe the truth about Regina. 

Ruby’s expression flickered. “Then, try his ex.” 

“Where can I find him?” Emma asked. 

“He lives with his dad.” 

XXXX 

“The baby,” Neal said suddenly as they walked. “That’s what Gold wants. That’s why he hired you.” 

Emma stopped short. “What?!” 

“She sold the baby to Gold,” Neal repeated. “She broke into his shop to steal the contract.” 

Emma narrowed her eyes. “Okay, that’s one theory—but what makes you so sure?” 

“Trust me,” Neal said grimly. “It’s the kind of backroom shady business deal that would be right up Gold’s alley.” He kicked a soda can out of his way. Enchanted Forest or Storybrooke, it made no difference—Gold was still Rumplestiltskin. 

“Well, we still need to confirm that with the ex,” Emma replied, twisting her lips. “But…that does make sense…” 

“D’you think the ex knew?” Neal pondered at the sky. “And that’s why he left her? Because she sold the baby?” 

Emma’s lips thinned. “Or maybe he just left her regardless, because he was too scared to deal with it.” 

“Maybe he wanted the baby,” Neal retorted. “Maybe it would’ve changed things if he’d—” 

“If he was gonna leave in the first place, then it doesn’t make a difference!” Emma shouted suddenly. Henry glanced between them nervously. 

“I’ll wait here,” Neal volunteered. “You go ahead.” Emma nodded curtly and marched up towards the house. Henry shifted his weight uncomfortably and Neal ruffled his hair affectionately. 

“Sorry,” He said gruffly. “Sorry. We’ll try not to do that when you’re around.” 

“It’s okay,” Henry smiled. “The true loves never have an easy time of it in the beginning. Look at Snow and Charming!” 

Neal sighed but decided not to answer. Henry would learn eventually that his parents weren’t true loves, that some people simply aren’t meant for each other. Love wasn’t in the cards for the son of the Dark One.

Emma returned, fire in her eyes. “You’re right—Gold made a deal with Sean’s father. His father pushed them into it. We have to find Ashley and stop her from leaving town.” 

“And make her give the baby back to Gold?” Henry asked doubtfully as they hopped into the yellow bug. 

“ _Hell_  no,” Neal said emphatically and Emma nodded in agreement. “Gold isn’t getting anywhere near that baby.” 

Henry suddenly looked afraid. “But—you can’t make her double-cross Gold. No one’s ever broken a deal with him!” 

“I’m happy to be the first,” Emma sped towards Granny’s diner. “If Ashley wants to have this baby, she should have it. Anyone who wants to be a mother should damn well be allowed to be one.” 

A nasty part of Neal wanted to ask her if the same applied to those who wanted to be a father, but he resisted the urge to speak.  _You left her, jackass_ , He thought to himself grimly.  _You have no one but yourself to blame_. Himself and…August, of course. That son of a bitch—he had sworn to let Neal know if anything changed—an unplanned pregnancy sure as hell would’ve changed things! 

He couldn’t worry about that now. 

XXXX 

After Ruby’s reluctant confession, they discovered Ashley was leaving for Boston. Emma sent a loudly complaining Henry back to his house before glancing at Neal and jerking her head towards the bug. Once again, she was allowing him to accompany her. Slow progress. 

“We gotta stop her from leaving, especially if Gold finds out she’s cut out of his deal,” Neal buckled his seatbelt and Emma started the engine. 

Emma glanced at him. “Any idea what he’ll do? Aside from calling the cops and pressing charges?” 

“It won’t be good,” Neal said darkly. “You should’ve seen what happened to the last maid that he felt was dishonest.” 

“Geez, how much time have you been spending with this guy?” Emma wanted to know. 

“Way too much,” Neal bleakly. At that precise moment, Henry popped out of the backseat. 

“What’d she tell you guys?” He asked eagerly, nearly giving Neal a heart attack. 

“Jesus!” Neal exploded. 

“Henry!” Emma said outraged. “What the hell? We’re going to Boston! You can’t come with us!” 

“You can’t go to Boston!” Henry gasped. “She can’t leave. Bad things happen to anyone who does.” 

“I don’t have time to argue with you over the curse. I’ve got to get you home,” Emma ordered. 

“Emma, we can’t,” Neal said to her quietly. “If we turn around now, we’ll never catch up with her.” 

“We have to stop her before she gets hurt! Dad, you know about the curse,” Henry said seriously. “We’re wasting time! If you drop me off—” 

“All right!” Emma stepped on the accelerator. “You both win. Jesus. Like father like son.” She cast an annoyed glance at the backseat and Neal pressed his lips together to avoid smiling, remembering. 

XXXX 

“Look!” 

Neal followed Henry’s pointed figure and inhaled sharply. Ruby’s car was sitting in the ditch. 

“Shit,” Neal swore opening the car door. 

“Ashley!” Emma shouted, running over. She wasn’t in the car. Neal instinctively checked for blood, for any sign that she was hurt. 

They heard a low moan. A few feet away from the car, Ashley was sitting in the grass, clutching her swollen middle. 

“Hey!” Neal rushed towards her. “You okay?” 

“My baby!” Ashley wailed. “It’s coming!” 

“C’mon,” Neal gently lifted her off the ground, carrying her to Emma’s car. Henry eagerly opened the door to the backseat and Neal set her inside. 

Emma darted inside the car and revved the engine. Within moments, they were barreling down the interstate, Henry upfront, Neal trying to calm Ashley down in the backseat. 

“Is the baby really coming?” Henry asked nervously. 

“Oh yeah,” Emma said grimly. “Don’t worry, the hospital isn’t that far.” 

“No!” Ashley cried. “No, no, no! Take me to Boston. I can’t go back there!” 

“Oh, no, we don’t have four hours—trust me, I know!” Emma replied firmly. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” Neal squeezed her shoulder. “Just breathe, okay?” 

“I can’t go back there,” Tears fell down her cheeks. “Please. He’s going to take my baby!” 

“I’m not gonna let that happen,” Emma and Neal said in unison. Neal glanced at her uncomfortably and returned back to her. 

“Ashley, listen to me,” He took her hands. “I know Gold. Better than you. If you trust me, I won’t let him anywhere near you or your baby. Can you do that?” 

“I can’t—I can’t abandon my child,” Ashley whispered. “I can’t do that.” 

“I know,” Neal said quietly. “Trust me.” Ashley swallowed and took a deep breath, nodding. She cried out in pain as another contraction hit her and squeezed Neal’s palm desperately. 

“Do you know what you’re asking for?” Emma asked her. “If you keep this child, are you really ready?” 

“Yeah,” Ashley nodded frantically. 

“Are you sure? Because I wasn’t,” Emma told her baldly. 

“You weren’t?” 

“Nope. If you want to give this kid its best chance, it’s gotta be with someone who’s ready, so know what that means! Your whole life is going to change and once you decide that it’s yours, this ‘running away’ can’t happen. You have to grow up and you can’t ever leave. Understand?” Emma’s gaze flickered towards her rearview mirror. Neal couldn’t tell if she was looking at him or Ashley. 

“Yes,” Ashley sobbed. “I—I want my baby!” 

Emma said nothing but hit the gas. 

XXXX 

It was a girl. They made it to the hospital with time to spare and Ashley tearfully thanked them as she was wheeled into the maternity ward. While the doctor brought them the news, Gold slithered into the hospital, looking smug and in control. The muscle in Emma’s jaw twitched and made to rise. 

“Emma,” Neal stopped her. “Let me.” 

“He can’t have that baby,” Emma growled. 

“No, he can’t,” Neal agreed. “I’m going to stop him. I swear. Let me handle it.” 

Her mouth twisted. “Why do you think I can’t?” 

“You can handle it,” Neal admitted. “But it would cost you. The only way to get Ashley out of that deal is to strike a new deal with him. And I want to do that. I don’t want you to owe him anything.” 

Emma’s brow furrowed. “Do you know this guy? I mean—have you met him before? Before Henry found us?” 

Neal sighed. The honest concern on Emma’s face almost made him want to throw up his hands and confess all. But he could not play it this way. 

“I know enough,” Neal said quietly. “Just let me handle this. Just this once—please, Emma.” 

She slowly nodded. He turned away from her and walked towards Gold who was getting himself a cup of coffee from the vending machine. 

“Care for a cup?” Gold offered. 

“What do you want?” Neal said bluntly. 

“I thought I’d made that clear,” Gold took a sip. “Miss Boyd and I have an agreement.” 

“You and I both know that Emma and I are not gonna let you take that kid,” Neal crossed his arms. “You and I also know that that contract Ashley stole is far from legal and while you might be feared in this town, you’re not particularly liked. Who do you think the court’s gonna side with? The single mom trying to keep her baby or the guy that strikes terror into everyone’s heart just by walking down the street?” 

Gold regarded him coldly. He took a long drink of his coffee before tossing it in the trash and turned to face Neal fully. 

“I like Miss Swan,” He smiled. “She’s not afraid of me, but she knows nothing about me, which could work well in her favor. As for you…you should know nothing about me and yet you act as though you  _do_  know something about me…and goodness me, dearie, I’m not sure where that leaves us.” 

“Let Ashley keep her baby,” Neal said through gritted teeth. 

“Not just yet. You see, contracts…deals…well, they’re the very foundation of a civilized existence,” Gold’s eyes glittered. “Are you willing to make a deal with me, Mr. Cassidy?” 

“Only if you don’t break it,” Neal’s voice was hard. Something shifted in Gold’s expression—a tremor, perhaps fear or anger. But his placid countenance returned, giving nothing away. 

“I never break deals, Mr. Cassidy,” Gold said smoothly. “In that case—you’ll owe me a favor. I don’t know just what, quite yet—but when the time comes…I will collect.” 

Neal’s heart hammered against his chest. Everything inside him screamed not to do this, flashes of green portals, the release of a hard scaly grip— 

“Deal.” 

XXXX 

Neal approached Emma. She rose to greet him, smiling a little. 

“Ashley named the girl Alexandra,” She cleared her throat. “She’s really happy. Everything good?” 

“Yeah, uh…yeah,” Neal swallowed. “Got it taken care of.” 

“Good,” Emma said in relief. “I gotta…gotta take Henry home.” 

“Want me to?” Neal offered. 

“No, no. I got it. Thanks, though,” Emma scuffed the toe of her boot against the tile. He waited for her to say what was on her mind. 

“Can I ask you something?” She asked. “Just for—I just wanted to know something…” 

“What?” Neal replied seriously. Emma sighed in agitation. 

“If…if you’d known,” She said hesitantly. “If you’d known that I was pregnant with Henry. Would you still have left?” 

Neal gazed at her for a long time. His chest hurt with the ache to tell the truth. Perhaps it made him a bastard, but if he’d known that Emma had been pregnant…he would’ve told August to go to Hell, he would’ve bailed Emma out himself, and he would’ve spent the rest of his life trying to make it up to her. They could’ve been a family. They could’ve found Tallahassee. 

 _“She has a destiny. And you? This life? You’re going to keep her from it.”_  

He clenched his fists. August had sworn that if anything changed, he’d tell him. But he’d deliberately kept Emma’s pregnancy from him because he knew that Neal would never leave her. The same way he knew he was Baelfire… 

But he was right, wasn’t he? Emma had a destiny. She was here because Storybrooke needed her, because their son needed her. She was going to save everyone… 

“I’d still have left,” Neal’s voice was hollow. “I’d still…have left.” 

Emma closed her eyes. The lines on her forehead deepened for a long moment and she finally turned away from him and walked out the hospital doors. Neal stood rooted to the spot, trying to remember why he’d even come to Storybrooke in the first place.


	7. Cricket Song

The autumn night was brisk as Neal admired the way the starlight filtered through the trees. He sipped his coffee, shivering a little at the chill, feeling a strange sort of comfort being surrounded by forest. He rarely felt nostalgia for the Enchanted Forest, for his little shack with his papa, but being in Storybrooke brought up uncomfortable memories. Memories he’d spent a lifetime blocking out.

“Nice night.”

Neal closed his eyes and sighed. It seemed to be a Storybrooke tradition for people to approach from behind.

“Little late for hiking,” Neal commented, turning towards Jefferson. His curious landlord smiled him warmly. 

“But not too late for drinking,” Jefferson countered, handing him a bottle of whiskey. Neal glanced at the label, raising his eyebrows in respect. He uncapped the bottle and splashed a plentiful amount in his coffee mug. 

“So, how are you settling in?” Jefferson inquired. 

Neal shrugged. “I can’t complain so far.” 

“I’m sure it must be…fulfilling, to get to know your son,” Jefferson observed. 

“I guess so,” Neal took a long swig of spiked coffee. “He’s an amazing kid. Smarter than me, braver than Emma—he could take over the world, if he wanted to, but all he wants is…” 

“His family,” Jefferson’s voice became strange. “He wants his family back together. I suppose that’s what we all want, in the end.” 

Neal shrugged again. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted his whole family back together again—he was still leery of Rumplestiltskin’s motives and even in his cursed form, the pawnbroker unsettled him. But all Neal truly wanted was Henry happy and healthy, a desire he shared with Emma. Anything else….Neal didn’t dare to hope for anything else. Happily ever after was often exclusive, and rarely for those who’d been touched by dark magic. 

“So,” Neal cleared his throat. “You still wanted me for maintenance work, right?” 

“Basic groundskeeping, yes,” Jefferson acknowledged. “Any experience as a gardener? My current garden is something of a jungle right now.” 

“Sure,” Neal nodded. “I can take care of that for you. Let me know if there are any leaky faucets or plumbing issues too—I was a handyman in another life.” 

The truth was, Neal had done a little bit of everything—from stealing, to housekeeping, to construction, to maintenance, to cleaning sewers. His much preferred accounting, once he fell into it, but he had done what he could to survive. 

“And you wouldn’t be opposed to running the odd errand or two?” Jefferson asked, fingering the bottle. 

“I guess so,” Neal said uncomfortably. Something about Jefferson’s tone bothered him. 

“Good,” His landlord said approvingly. “I’m something of an art collector and I have a sort of understanding with Mr. Gold—he saves some of his rarer pieces for me. But I don’t like the town very much, except for…personal reasons.” 

Neal winced slightly but nodded. “Yeah, I can be a…courier, I guess. I’ll need to deal with Gold anyway, he’s helping me with my case for Henry.” 

“Ah, yes,” Jefferson’s eyes glittered. “How is that going, by the way?” 

“Nothing really to report,” Neal sighed. “Right now we’re just waiting for Regina to slip up, so I can build a case against her for negligence—get Henry out of her custody, then adopt him myself.” 

“And then what?” Jefferson inquired. “Will you stay in Storybrooke or return to New York?” 

Neal hesitated. Henry’s entire world centered around Storybrooke, it was the only home he’d ever known. It would surely be wrong to take his son away from that, but Henry did not know the dangers that lay there too. Not simply from Regina, or even his father—where there was good magic, there was dark magic, magic that seeped through the veins and lurked in dark corridors. There was evil to be sure, and Neal wanted it far away from his son. 

But what was left for Neal in New York? 

“I haven’t decided yet,” Neal said finally. “Taking it one day at a time. Getting Henry away from Regina is going to be challenge enough.” 

“True enough,” Jefferson agreed. The two of them fell into silence as they watched the dusk settle. Neal felt strangely unnerved, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. 

“I love the sound of night,” Jefferson said dreamily and Neal realized what had been bothering him. He heard no sounds from the forest, no crickets chirping, no owls hooting. 

It was strange. 

XXXX 

The door jangled as Neal walked into the pawnshop, approaching warily. Gold glanced up at his entrance and smiled politely. 

“Mr. Cassidy,” He greeted. “Did we have an appointment?” 

“No,” Neal cleared his throat. “I’m working for Jefferson Madden, he said he was picking up an abstract painting from you.” 

“Ah yes,” Gold’s eyes glittered. “Wait right here.” He retreated into the back and returned holding a small painting. Neal squinted, he couldn’t quite make out the strange pattern emblazoned across the canvas—it looked like something between an umbrella or an insect. Whatever it was, it gave Neal the creeps. 

“Who painted this?” Neal asked. 

“A local artist,” Gold replied. “A very unappreciated talent. Lucky to have Mr. Jefferson Madden as a patron. Mr. Madden buys every portrait he paints.” 

“Huh,” Neal nodded and Gold began to wrap it up carefully. “Guess art goes over my head or something.” Gold chuckled and started to respond, but suddenly the entire shop began to shake. Books fell to the floor and the cello overturned with a bang. As quickly as it began, it stopped. 

“What the hell?” Neal said in alarm. Grabbing the painting, he ran outside, following the crowd of people. 

They eventually found themselves gathered around what appeared to be the entrance to a tunnel. Neal greeted Emma grimly, who was standing next to Sheriff Graham, looking on in concern. 

“Everyone! Step back, please!” Regina immediately took control of the situation. 

“Is that a crater?” Ruby asked interestedly. 

“No, there were tunnels—old mines. Something collapsed!” Marco exclaimed. Regina began barking orders as Graham and Emma approached her. Neal raised an eyebrow. So Emma had accepted the deputy job. That was promising, considering her commitment to the town. 

“People of Storybrooke! Don’t be alarmed,” Regina announced. “We’ve always known this area was honeycombed with old mining tunnels. But fear not. I’m going to undertake a project to make this area safe—to rehabilitate it into city use. We will bulldoze it, collapse it, pave it.” 

“Pave it?” Henry burst through the crowd. “What if there’s something down there?” 

“Henry, what are you doing here?” Regina demanded. He ignored her question.

”What’s down there?” 

“Nothing,” Regina snapped. “Now step back. In fact, everyone! Please, please step back. Thank you.” The crowd begrudgingly followed her directions. Neal narrowed his eyes as he examined the crumbling mine shaft. Regina did seem rather eager to close off this area… 

“What was that?” Henry demanded loudly. Neal turned to see Regina glare at the boy. 

“Henry, enough,” She snapped. “Listen. This is a safety issue. Wait in the car.” She turned away from him then, barking orders. 

Henry promptly ignored his mother and darted over towards Neal. He beckoned his therapist, a genial red-haired man named Archie, and Emma to gather. 

“This requires all of Operation Cobra,” Henry said solemnly. “All of us.” 

“I didn’t realize I was in Operation Cobra,” Archie said, slightly baffled. 

“Of course you are! You know everything. We can’t let her do this. What if there’s something down there?” Henry asked earnestly. 

“They’re just some old tunnels,” Emma said impatiently. 

“That just happen to collapse right after you get here?” Henry prodded. “You’re changing things. You’re weakening the curse!” 

Emma shook her head. “That’s not what’s happening.” 

“Yes it is! Did you do anything different today? ‘Cause something made this happen! Dad, tell her!” Henry appealed to Neal. Neal scratched the back of his neck and shrugged speculatively at Emma. The tunnels did seem like something to look into… 

“Henry, I told you to wait in the car,” Regina marched over towards them, breaking the band of four. “Deputy, do your job.” She spat at Emma who rolled her eyes and walked away. 

“Dr. Hopper, a word please,” Regina directed Henry’s therapist sharply. She led him away, Archie looking very unhappy. 

Neal turned towards the tunnels. He walked towards them slowly, careful not to disturb any of the pathways, keeping his eyes peeled. Henry seemed certain that Regina had pocketed something, and Neal trusted his son’s instincts. 

Jefferson had said he was something of a cartographer. He might have a map of the old mines. Neal wasn’t sure what was down there, but he knew he wanted to find out. 

XXXX 

“The old mines, hm?” Jefferson walked along the street with Neal, humming thoughtfully. “No, I can’t say I have anything about them, except the odd historical mention.” 

“Well, what about the library?” Neal asked, nodding towards the old clocktower building. “Think that might have some records?” 

“Ah, that library’s been closed for years,” Jefferson chuckled to himself. “A shame. It could really use…a true lover of literature to run it. Pity I don’t have the time to devote to such a task.” 

“But there’s books in there,” Neal persisted. “Probably old town records too. How can I get in there?” 

“Ah, Regina has the keys, and I think you know how well that would go down if you asked for them,” Jefferson smiled grimly. “She’s not very fond of books, in any case. After all, isn’t it an old book of stories that has Henry so excited nowadays?” 

“Yeah,” Neal said carefully. “He thinks this entire town is cursed, that everyone is a bunch of fairytale characters.” He kept his tone light and amused, as he stared up and down the library. 

“Really,” Jefferson smiled. “And who does he think you are?” 

“I dunno,” Neal said uncomfortably. There was something a little…probing about Jefferson’s question. 

“I suppose it doesn’t matter, at any rate,” Jefferson mused. “It is all a fantasy he created for himself, after all. Don’t you agree?” 

Neal stopped short. Henry was running down the street, a car narrowly missing him. He seemed unaware of the present danger and Neal realized with horror that his son’s face was streaked with tears. 

“Henry!” Neal ran towards him, pulling him off the street. “Henry, what happened?!” His son hiccupped, unable to speak coherently. Wordlessly, Jefferson approached them handing Henry a handkerchief. 

“C’mon,” Neal took Henry’s hand. “Let’s go to Emma’s. You can tell us what happened.” 

XXXX 

“I’m gonna kick his ass,” Neal snarled as he and Emma stormed down the street towards Archie’s office. 

“Not before I do,” Emma was in full mama-bear mode, fists clenched, eyes fiery, never breaking stride. 

When they reached Archie’s office, Emma raised her hand to knock, but Neal didn’t bother with niceties. He slammed the door open and the two of them burst into his office. Archie was curled up on the couch, looking miserable, nursing a scotch. 

“You’ve got some goddamn nerve,” Neal started angrily but Emma raised her hand to silence him. 

“What did you do?” Emma demanded. “You told me not to take the fantasy away. You told me it would devastate him!” 

“Of course, but if therapy stops working, you adjust it,” Archie replied hoarsely. 

“Is it her? Did she threaten you?” Emma wanted to know. Archie sat silently but the guilt on his face was answer enough. 

“What could be strong enough to drown out your own conscience?” Emma asked in disgust. 

“I do not need to defend my professional decisions to you, okay?” Archie snapped, rising to his feet. 

Emma was about to sharply retort when her phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID and her color darkened considerably. “Hello, Madam Mayor. Nice work.” 

“Look, Archie,” Neal turned towards the therapist. “There aren’t a lot of people in this town Henry trusts to be himself with. Me, Emma, and you. Is whatever Regina has on you really worth betraying that? Ruining that?” 

“I don’t know where he is,” Emma said suddenly into the phone, her voice upset. Neal looked at her in alarm. 

Archie’s face went gray. “Oh…I do…” 

XXXX 

Neal’s stomach twisted as they approached the rickety mine shaft. His chest constricted as his mind cycled through a list of all the terrible things that could happen to his son—a mine collapse, suffocation under fallen rocks, inhaling toxic fumes… 

“Henry!” Emma called out, circling the area. 

“Henry!” Archie shouted. Pongo whined, sniffing something on the ground, near the opening of the mine. 

“What do you got there, Pongo?” Archie asked urgently. Neal watched him, his heart leaping in his throat. Surely—surely Henry wouldn’t have actually entered the mines? He further realized that if he were ten years old, that was exactly what he would’ve done. 

“I don’t think he’s here,” Emma called to him worriedly. Archie bent and picked something off the ground. 

“I think he is,” Archie said heavily. “Candy bar—he had these with him.” 

Without warning, the ground began to shake. Emma stumbled over her feet while adrenaline rushed through Neal’s veins. He attempted to clamber after Archie, who’d disappeared into the mine, yelling his son’s name. But before Neal could follow, the entryway collapsed completely. 

“Archie! Henry!” Emma cried out. She grabbed Neal’s arms to stop him from barreling into the mine in a blind panic. 

“The whole thing could collapse!” Her voice was choked and Neal withdrew, running his fingers through his hair in agitation. 

“We need backup,” His voice was shaky. “Henry…” 

Emma was already on her cellphone. 

XXXX 

“Archie’s smart,” Marco reassured Emma, Neal, and Graham. “He will keep the boy safe until we get to them.” 

Laborers carefully removed stones from the entrance, Neal among them. He poured his anxiety and fear into hard labor, trying to stem the urgency in his heart as he removed one stone at a time, passing it to the man behind him. After one man, named Gus, attempted to move a cinder block, the ground shook ominously once more, the mine’s entrance rattling. 

“Stop!” Regina shouted rushing over. “You’re making it worse!” She threw the accusation towards Emma, whose hackles rose. 

“I am trying to save him!” She snapped rounding towards Regina. “You know why he went in there in the first place, don’t you? Because you made him feel like he had something to prove!” 

“And why does he think he has anything to prove?” Regina demanded. “Who’s encouraging him?” 

“Do not put this on me—” Emma started to snarl. 

“ _Enough_!” Neal broke in angrily. “Knock it the hell off! The more time we waste arguing about whose fault it is, the less time Henry has to survive in there.” 

The women were silent for a moment. Emma took a deep breath. 

“Neal’s right,” She swallowed. “We have to stop this, arguing won’t accomplish anything.” 

Regina drew a shuddery breath. She threw a poisonous glanced towards Neal and nodded in agreement. 

Neal crossed his arms. He didn’t like it, but the fact of the matter was, Regina had been the leader of this town for thirty years. She’d done horrible, probably unspeakable things that he didn’t know about—but she would know how to direct this. 

And Neal would’ve sold his soul to the devil himself if it meant getting Henry out of that mine. 

“We’ll help you,” Neal told her. “If you tell us what needs to be done.” 

Regina’s voice shook. “We need to find some way to…punch through the ground. We need something big.” 

“Explosives,” Neal said immediately, cottoning on. “I’m on it. Let me grab Graham.” 

XXXX 

“Okay, we’re all clear,” Emma gathered the townspeople away from the mine shaft. 

“Blow it,” Regina commanded. A laborer pressed the button. The entrance into the mine shaft exploded with an impressive blast, scattering dirt and rocks askew. As soon as the explosion settled, clouds of dust blanketing the air, Neal and Emma rushed into the debris. 

Neal’s heart sank. The entryway remained blocked. Emma took one look at the entrance and rushed back to Regina, but Neal remained paralyzed with fear. He heard Regina in the distance screaming at the laborers with Emma trying to rein her in, and he tried not to panic. 

Horrible images filled his head—his father releasing his hand, abandoning him to a cold strange world. Why hadn’t Neal paid more attention to Henry?! Why hadn’t he noticed him slip off? Why hadn’t he realized Henry would return to the mines, determined to bring back proof? 

_This was his fault. He let his son go._  

“Neal!” Emma cried out. “Pongo found something!” 

Neal snapped out of his daze and raced towards her. Sure enough, the Dalmatian was sniffing something in the grass, whining pitifully as he attempted to dig. 

Marco, Graham, and Neal immediately went to work, lifting dirt and leaves away from something heavy and metal. They heaved a large metal sheet off of what appeared to be a grate. 

“What is that?” Emma asked desperately. 

“It’s an air shaft,” Graham replied worriedly. 

After some careful maneuvering, hitching the grate to a car in order to pull it from its rusted edges, they were able to see down into the shaft. Neal had good eyesight, but he could see nothing but blackness leading into the dark earth. He felt a little claustrophobic and he tried to push green portals and concaved earth from his head. 

“We need to lower someone straight down, or the line will collapse the side of the shaft,” Marco instructed. 

“I’ve got a harness,” Graham spoke up. 

“Lower me down,” Regina commanded. 

“I can do it,” Neal’s voice shook a little. “You’re not physically able to do this, I can. I’m strong enough.” 

When he’d first traveled to this world, the land without magic, the journey had been far from pleasant. He’d felt a horrible compression, as if his entire body was being flattened like a pancake, and he’d emerged gasping for breath on a cold London night. The claustrophobia of the feeling had followed his nightmares. 

Emma glanced at him. “Not you, Neal,” Her voice was guarded. “You’re too heavy.” He glanced at her, suddenly wondering if she remembered his anxiety in dark, enclosed spaces. 

“I’ll go,” She said calmly. 

“He’s  _my_  son,” Regina started. 

“He’s our son too,” Neal said without thinking. Emma winced a little at the ‘our’. 

“Emma can do this,” He cleared his throat. “Let her go.” 

“Just bring him to me,” Regina spat, walking away from them both. 

XXXX 

Neal had never known true relief until he saw Emma emerge from the dark mine shaft, clutching Henry. It was so overwhelming it staggered him, nearly knocking him to his feet. He grinned at her joyfully, helping Graham and Marco lift them both safely on solid ground. 

As soon as Henry was released from his harness, Regina snatched him up, enveloping him in her arms. Neal knew that the look of relief on the queen’s face was not feigned, but it didn’t grow her any empathy. She purposefully moved Henry away, out of Emma’s reach as Graham unhooked her. 

It was clear that their brief moment of working together was over when Regina coldly told Emma to clear the crowd away, refusing to let her hug Henry. She drew Henry away from Emma, carefully maneuvering him away from Neal, directing him to go to her car. Emma watched the Evil Queen approach Dr. Hopper, full of gratitude and false warmth. 

But while Emma wasn’t quite there yet, perhaps because she was still struggling that she’d made the decision to give her son up—Neal would be damned if some power-hungry monarch from his father’s land would stop him from tackling his son in a bear hug, lifting him clear off his feet. 

“Don’t  _ever_  let me catch you doing anything that crazy again,” He growled fiercely into Henry’s ear. 

“Next time I’ll just steal dynamite or something,” Henry grinned saucily and Neal pretended to shove him. 

“I’m serious kid,” Neal ruffled his hair. “You about gave me a heart attack.” 

“I’m sorry,” Henry said earnestly. “I just wanted to find proof. For Emma and Archie. So everyone would think I wasn’t crazy.” 

“I know you’re not lying,” Neal said gently. “And I know it’s frustrating. But I promise we’ll get there. We just gotta be patient, okay. And you gotta trust me, right? You can’t just go off and do things on your own, exploring dangerous mine shafts without telling me. We’re in this together, remember? Operation Cobra won’t work if you’re not in it with me.” 

Henry nodded slowly. “Yeah. You’re right. We’re in this together.” He hugged his father fiercely and Neal found himself resisting the urge to cry. 

XXXX 

“You okay?” 

Neal jerked out of his reverie. He’d been leaning on one of the large construction trucks, lost in thought, oblivious that the crowd had dispersed. Emma approached him warily, looking tired and dirty. 

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Neal remarked. 

“I bounce back quick,” She said wryly. “But you’ve got something on your mind.” 

He smiled faintly; Emma had always been able to read him like a book. 

“I was thinking about…my dad,” Neal said carefully. 

Emma looked surprised. He knew a great deal about her family troubles, how badly she’d wanted to find her true mother and father. But he’d always been evasive about his own past, alluding to a father who abandoned him, who let his addiction get out of control. 

“What about him?” She asked warily. “You haven’t…talked to him recently?” 

Loaded question. Neal sighed. “Not exactly. It’s just—I always hated how he got, when he was full of—when he let his addiction get out of control. He’d get crazy over me, crazy protective. Ostracized me from the rest of the—from my neighborhood. And I hated him for it. But now…” 

“Now?” Emma questioned. 

“Now—well, I’m beginning to understand that protective feeling. When Henry was trapped in that mine, I felt like my heart was trapped right along with it. I wanted to tear the damn thing to shreds for putting my son in danger like that. Even if my father got out of control…at least now I understand where he was coming from.” Neal ran his fingers through his hair distractedly. 

Emma was quiet for a long moment. Neal sighed again and looked at the sky. 

“But that brings it all back to the same thing,” He said softly. “My father abandoned me. And that—that I can never understand, no matter how hard I try.” 

Neal almost jumped when he felt her hand take his. It was a brief squeeze and then her hand was gone. Before he could comment, stare at her in surprise, she was walking away from him, almost hurrying. He remembered that she had been abandoned too—now he knew it had been for a greater purpose, but it was abandonment nonetheless. She believed her parents had not loved her, had left her on the side of the road. Emma understood his feelings. He wanted to tell her this, to catch up with her long, scared strides. But he turned around and headed home.


	8. Lone Wolf

“Buy you a drink?” 

Neal glanced up from his drink. The woman smiled at him charmingly. She was certainly attractive and for a brief moment, Neal considered taking her up on his offer. 

“Sorry, I can’t,” He cleared his throat. “Drinking alone tonight.” 

“You should never drink alone,” She winked. She was a regular to The Rabbit Hole, fairly distinctive with her bright red hair. And Neal couldn’t deny she was very beautiful. 

“Thanks for the offer,” He returned her wink. “I’m good, though.” 

“Got a girlfriend?” She asked curiously. The bartended slapped down a shot for her and she downed it quickly. 

“No,” Neal sighed. “Just a…complicated situation. And I can’t complicate it further. Thanks anyway.”

 The redhead shrugged and went on her way. Neal sighed again and signaled the bartender to refill his glass. There was no earthly reason why he shouldn’t return a flirtation. Go out on a date. Enjoy some company for once—it wasn’t as though he had a committed relationship to consider… 

But that wasn’t true, he thought suddenly. Henry. Henry came first. He’d jumped headfirst into being a father to Henry and there was absolutely nothing that should come before that. 

_But what about Emma?_

Neal leaned back a little and sighed. Emma was getting closer with Mary Margaret as of late—probably a good thing, since Mary Margaret was her mother, after all. Of course it got a little trickier when inveigling herself in a messy romantic affair that didn’t seem to have a good outcome, particularly with Regina messing around. It was clear that Mary Margaret and David had a great deal of pain ahead of them. 

The door opened and Graham entered, looking morose. Neal raised his hand in greeting. 

“You look like you need a drink,” Neal remarked, signaling the bartender. “What happened?” 

“It’s…well…” Graham looked suddenly trapped. “It’s kind of complicated.” 

“What’s the matter?” Neal asked in concern. “Is it about…is it about Emma?” 

Graham eyed him warily. Neal couldn’t blame him. There was no doubt about it, that Emma and Graham shared a connection. And Emma’s job at the sheriff’s office only seemed to encourage them to grow closer. Of course, this burgeoning relationship was probably awkward to talk about, particularly to Neal. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” Neal guessed. “Let me get you a drink, at least.” 

“I’ll gladly take you up on that,” Graham said in relief. “And it’s just…Emma—she sort of caught me in a compromising position.” 

Neal quirked an eyebrow. “How so?” 

“She saw me…exiting Regina’s house,” Graham sighed. “She saw me leaving through the window.” 

“Leaving…through the window,” Neal said slowly. He took a long drink to try and collect his thoughts. Graham watched him anxiously. 

“I didn’t realize you and Regina were involved,” Neal said finally, the barest trace of judgment clouding his tone. 

“We’re—I—I don’t know what we are,” Graham admitted. “She’s called for me for so long…but she doesn’t want Henry to know, to have it affect anything. And now with Emma…” He ran his fingers through his hair in agitation. 

“And now with Emma what?” Neal asked quietly. 

“Emma…I’ve never met anyone like her. She’s…beautiful and strong and clever and her courage to stand up to Regina—I don’t know how she does it. And I’ve felt something for her for a while, but I don’t…I don’t know what to do about it,” Graham buried his face in his hands. “I think—I think I hurt her, when she saw me come out of Regina’s house. She was very…angry.” 

Neal sipped his drink musingly. He wasn’t unaware of Emma’s soft smiles towards Graham, her barbed affections. It was something he’d tried to ignore, because of how wretched it made him feel. 

But what was best for them both? 

“I don’t blame Emma for being angry,” Neal cleared his throat. “She feels betrayed. She obviously feels something for you, so to find out you’re screwing the woman that’s trying to keep her from Henry…is not a good feeling.” 

“It’s more complicated than that,” Graham said miserably. “Being with Emma, being around her…for the first time…I feel  _something.”_

Neal stared at the sheriff. What had Regina  _done_  to this man? 

“Well, let me say this,” Neal said finally. “Emma is…worth it. Worth everything. And I’ve seen you two together. She has feelings for you. If you’re there for her, she’ll let you in eventually. Someone’s gotta break those walls down, and you could be the one to do it.” 

Graham looked cautious. “She doesn’t let people in easily. I’ve noticed that.” 

Neal’s fingers twitched around his glass. “Yeah. And part of that’s my fault. But she’s worth it, Graham. And she deserves happiness. You two could be happy together, so stop wasting your time with Regina and be with her.” 

“I wish it were that simple,” Graham swallowed hard. 

“It  _is_  that simple,” Neal stood suddenly. “It  _is_. Don’t let yourself or anyone else talk you out of being with her. Because that will haunt you for the rest of your life, Graham. You could be that true love for her, so don’t let that slip away!” 

Adrenaline surging through his veins, he stalked out of the bar. 

XXXX 

“Neal,” Emma leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms. “What are you doing here?” 

He heard hard rock blaring in the background. Emma was in mood, that was for sure, and his appearance was probably not improving matters. He cleared his throat awkwardly. 

“Henry wanted this old sweatshirt of mine,” He handed it to her. “Tried to drop it off at Regina’s and she slammed the door in my face. Figured you could get it to him.” 

“You see him as often as I do,” Emma pointed out, still taking the sweatshirt. She examined it and smiled—the words KNIGHT IN TRAINING was emblazoned upon the front. Neal had found it twenty years ago, in the lost and found at Knight Community College in Rhode Island. He hardly wore it anymore and he was delighted that Henry wanted this small piece. 

“Still, I wanted to…I guess check in…” Neal trailed off awkwardly. 

Emma narrowed her eyes suspiciously. He never could keep much from her. 

Neal coughed. “I saw Graham at the bar earlier. He mentioned…some stuff about you and him.” 

“And so what?!” Emma challenged. “You came over here to stake a claim or something?” 

“No!” Neal fairly yelped. “I just wanted to—I guess ask how you were doing. Graham was pretty miserable, so I just figured…” 

“Why should he be miserable?” Emma wanted to know. “His personal life is none of my business. I just work for the guy.” 

“Oh, c’mon, Emma,” Neal said in frustration. “You know that’s not all there is. Anyone who saw the two of you together would think—” 

“Would think  _what_?!” Emma’s eyes flashed dangerously. 

“Would think nothing!” Neal fired back. “Would be able to see that Graham has feelings for you, and I think you have feelings for him.” 

“First of all,” Emma snapped. “Not true. Second of all—none of your business whatsoever—” 

“I know,” Neal interrupted. “I know. I just wanted…I just wanted to make sure you weren’t letting what I did to you get in the way of something with Graham. I hurt you so much, and I’ve never forgiven myself for that. But Graham isn’t me. He’s better than me, he—” 

“Is sleeping with Regina,” Emma cut him short. “And that has nothing to do with me.” 

“Emma,” Neal dared to touch her arm. At the brush of his fingers, she paused, a sudden softness filling her features. 

“Someday,” He said quietly. “Someday you’ll know that everything I’ve done, all the mistakes I’ve made, everything happened because…I’ve only ever wanted you to be happy. I know that doesn’t make sense, given our history, but…it’s the truth. I just want you to be happy.” 

She stared at him. Her usual coldness had evaporated and for a long moment, Neal thought of Tallahassee. But when he let go of her shoulder, the spell was broken and Emma stepped away from him. 

Neal closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He turned away from her and started towards the stairs. 

“Neal.” 

He turned. Emma approached him slowly, swallowing hard. She tucked a blonde curl behind her ear and looked at him squarely. 

“If…if something were to happen—with me and Graham,” She cleared her throat. “You’d be okay with that?” 

Neal’s heart began to pound. He wanted to ask her why that made a difference, why it mattered whether or not. But he nodded at her instead, smiling at her, ignoring the pang of hurt in his chest. Emma and Graham…the sheriff and the Savior…there was something to that. It could be true love. 

Neal turned towards the stairway and headed downstairs. He thought he heard Emma say something, but kept walking. 

XXXX 

“This is creepy,” Neal declared flatly. Jefferson chuckled, taking the painting from him. 

“Not much of an art fan, are you?” He inquired, gazing at the painting lovingly.  

Neal wrinkled. “I like art, that thing is creepy,” Neal retorted, folding his arms against his chest. The painting was nearly black, save for a silver-white wolf running through the trees. It wouldn’t have been quite as unnerving had the wolf not been bleeding heavily, littering the forest path with crimson, its two-colored eyes illuminating the picture. 

“One of a kind,” Jefferson smirked. “I’m lucky to be a patron to such a talented artist.” 

“Who is this artist?” Neal wanted to know. “Some lackey of Gold’s? Or Gold himself?” 

“Gold has never had artistic pursuits, but he respects privacy,” Jefferson replied easily. “It’s funny you think I would know the name of my artist. Isn’t the mystery part of the allure?” 

“I think it’s pretty clear that you know everything that goes on in this town,” Neal said flatly. 

The smile slowly faded from Jefferson’s expression. His eyes became very cold.

“And that’s just it, isn’t it,” He murmured, almost to himself. “I do know everything that goes on—and can do nothing about it.” 

Neal opened his mouth to answer when someone pounded on the door. Blinking in confusion, he crossed the threshold and opened the door. Graham stood on the front porch, looking manic. 

“You weren’t at your cabin, I thought you’d be here,” Graham said in a rush. 

“Whoa, what’s the matter?” Neal asked in concern. “What happened?” 

“I don’t know who else to go to,” Graham ran his fingers through his hair in agitation. “But something’s not right. Something’s wrong. This world is wrong.” 

Jefferson was watching them. Clearing his throat, Neal nodded curtly at his landlord and took Graham by the arm, leading him outside. 

“What are you talking about?” Neal demanded, forcing them to walk quickly. 

“I kissed Emma,” Graham said frantically. “I kissed her and—” 

“You  _kissed_  Emma?” Neal interrupted, his voice became slightly shrill. 

“You told me to pursue things with her!” Graham retorted, wiping his forehead. 

“Yeah, like a cup of coffee or a noncommittal lunch!” Neal shouted. “I didn’t tell you to stick your tongue down her throat!” 

Graham stared at him incredulously. Neal bit his tongue hard—he knew he sounded ridiculous. He was being unfair, letting his personal feelings for Emma override his friendship with Graham—and more importantly, Operation Cobra. 

“What did you see?” Neal took a deep breath. “When you kissed Emma?” 

“I don’t—different flashes,” Graham mumbled. “A white wolf, with two different colored eyes.” 

Neal stilled. Jefferson’s latest painting… 

“And later, I had a nightmare. I was hunting a deer and then…I think I saw Mary Margaret—I think—I think I wanted to  _hurt_  her,” Graham rubbed his eyes. 

Neal’s thoughts swam. Who was Graham Humbert in the fairytale world? 

“I talked to Mary Margaret,” Graham pressed. “She said—she said something about Henry, how he believed we were from a different land…” 

Neal nodded. “C’mon,” He said finally. “I think it’s time to let you in on Operation Cobra.” 

XXXX 

“Dad!” Henry greeted cheerfully. “And Sheriff! What’s going on?” 

“Kind of an Operation Cobra emergency, kid,” Neal said grimly. “Think you can help?” 

“Sure!” Henry ushered them inside, clambering up the steps towards his bedroom. “What’s going on?” 

“It’s about your book,” Graham cleared his throat, holding the bedroom door open for them. “Am I…am I in it?” 

Excitement lit a fire on Henry’s face as he bounced onto his bed. “You—are you starting to remember?!” 

“Slow down, kid,” Neal advised. “One thing at a time. You’re our resident expert on the storybook—is Graham in it?” 

Henry’s eyes gleamed. “I think so. What brought these on?” 

“I started having…flashbacks—visions of…of things I didn’t recognize…or did recognize…I don’t know. It’s all so confusing,” Graham raked his fingers through his hair. 

“When did your flashes begin?” Henry asked practically. 

Graham glanced at Neal. “Uh, right after I kissed Emma.” 

“You kissed my mom?!” Henry said, thunderstruck. He cast an accusing glanced towards Neal, as if this was somehow his fault. 

Henry sighed. “What did you see?” 

“A wolf,” Graham said clearly. “I saw that I had a knife in my hand and I was with Mary Margaret.” 

“Were you about to hurt her?” Henry asked carefully. 

“Yes!” Graham exclaimed. “How do you know that?” 

Henry looked at Neal in question. Neal nodded. 

“Because Mary Margaret is Snow White,” Henry said very seriously. “Which makes you the Huntsman.” 

The Huntsman! Neal’s eyes widened. His clever son had figured this out a long time ago, hadn’t he? 

“You really think that I could be another person…” Graham said slowly. He looked at Graham incredulously. “And you do too? This is Operation Cobra?” 

“I know it sounds crazy,” Neal said quietly. “But…this magic land Henry keeps telling everyone about. The enchanted forest, where you’re the Huntsman and Mary Margaret is Snow White and Regina is the Evil Queen…I’m from there. I remember it. I spent my life running away from it. But we can’t run away anymore. There’s too much at stake.” 

“It makes total sense,” Henry jumped in. “You were raised by wolves—that’s why you keep seeing one. It’s your friend—your guide. It’s trying to help you.” 

“How…how is this possible?” Graham whispered. 

“Because you kissed Emma,” Neal said heavily. “And when you kissed her, it sparked your memories.” 

“They have a special connection,” Henry admitted, somewhat begrudgingly. “Snow White’s her mother and you spared her. If you hadn’t, my mom wouldn’t have been born.” 

Graham shook himself a little. “Wh-what happened after I spared Snow White?”

“The Queen took your heart,” Henry said seriously. “She ripped it out. It’s kind of her thing. She never wanted you to be able to feel again.” 

Neal’s fists clenched. So  _that_ was why Graham had been sleeping with Regina—not because he had a true attachment to her. She had taken his heart, his autonomy, his capacity to make choices. He was little more than her guard dog as he stumbled around in this hazy curse. 

“This symbol,” Graham said suddenly, flipping through the book. “What’s that? I saw that too. The wolf was howling at it.” 

“That’s her vault. It’s where she put your heart.” 

“The wolf wants me to find it,” Graham said, shutting the book with resolve. “Thank you, Henry. Neal.” 

“Wait, Graham! Wait for me!” Neal called out as Graham hurried out of Henry’s bedroom. But before he could chase after him, Henry snatched his sleeve. 

“I can’t believe you let him kiss Emma,” Henry crossed his arms accusingly. 

“What are you talking about?” Neal wanted to know. “ _Let_  him?” 

“Emma’s your true love!” Henry argued. “I like Graham, but  _you’re_  here. You have to get Emma back!” 

Neal sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Henry—I’m not here for Emma. I’m here for you. We both are. Emma is free to be with whoever she wants, whoever makes her happy.” 

“But you could make her happy!” 

“I could once,” Neal said heavily. “But Emma and I have—we’re not—look, Henry. Just because we were together once, doesn’t mean we should be together now. Besides, don’t you like Graham?” 

“Yeah, I do,” Henry said doubtfully. “But—but you’re my dad! And she’s my mom!” “That doesn’t always mean that we’re meant to be together,” Neal said gently. “We need to focus on what’s important here. I have to go find Graham—” 

“He’s so close to remembering!” 

“I know,” Neal said grimly. “And in this town, that’s dangerous.” 

XXXX 

Graham was nowhere to be seen. Cursing in frustration, he was about to run back inside the Mayor’s house to find out where Regina’s vault was, when he nearly ran headlong into Jefferson. 

“Geez!” Neal exploded. “I thought I asked you to stop doing that!” 

“I do apologize,” Jefferson smirked. “Force of habit.” 

“Force of habit to creep the living daylights out of people?” Neal muttered. “Have you seen Graham?” 

“I saw him earlier today,” Jefferson considered. “He was talking to Mr. Gold.” 

“Gold?” Neal stopped short. “What do you mean he was talking to Gold? Where?” 

“Oh, I came upon them during my afternoon walk,” Jefferson said cheerily. “Graham seemed very distressed. Looking for a wolf, or so I heard. Gold was gardening.” 

“ _Gardening?!_ ” 

“Or so he said,” Jefferson examined his fingernails. “He had a shovel with him. Appeared to be digging, at any rate. Curious as to why he’d want to garden so far away from both his cabin and his house, don’t you think?” 

Neal’s mind swam. A shovel with him…was Gold  _burying_  something? Burying something deep in the woods, where no one would find it? What would he be burying and what’s more— _why_? 

Rumplestiltskin had an assortment of dangerous and wicked items, any number of which would be a decent threat. But none that could harm him physically—except for one thing… 

The dagger. 

Neal’s throat constricted. If what Jefferson said was right—that meant Gold had to have been burying the dagger. Which meant—was it possible that Gold  _remembered who he was_? 

“Are you all right?” Jefferson was still watching him. “You’ve gone very pale. Sick, perhaps?” 

“I’m fine,” Neal managed to say. “I have to—did you see where he was—gardening? Exactly where?” 

“Certainly,” Jefferson’s eyes glittered. “I’d be happy to take you there right now, if you like.” 

Neal glanced down the road behind him. Graham was still missing, still wandering around a world where he was starting to remember who he truly was—and if Regina found him this way, who knew what the consequences would be. 

But if Rumplestiltskin had remembered who he was…if he’d hidden the dagger, the source of his power, until the opportune moment… 

“Take me there,” Neal said firmly. 

XXXX 

Neal’s feeling of unease did not dissipate as he followed Jefferson deep into the woods. He couldn’t put a finger on the feeling, thought it felt remarkably similar to how he felt when he listened to August and chose to leave Emma for good. As though there was something interminably wrong with the decision, but forces were pulling him away and there was no way to stop it. 

_Only for a few hours,_  Neal thought frantically. Then he would find Graham, keep him away from Regina’s vault, and everything would be fine. Graham could help him and Henry get Emma to realize her destiny. 

But first things first. Neal had to get that dagger. 

“Here we are,” Jefferson stopped suddenly, turning over a stone with his boot. “You can see the soil’s been freshly overturned. He certainly cleaned up after himself, though. No shovel marks or empty seed bags to be seen.” 

“Yeah,” Neal swore silently, wishing he’d thought to bring his own shovel. “The soil’s still pretty loose though—it won’t stay that way after it rains, though.” 

“Planning on doing a little gardening yourself?” Jefferson asked innocently. 

Neal sighed heavily and swung towards Jefferson. “Look, man,” He gritted out. “You and I both know something’s going on with this town. I don’t know how much you know, or what you know—but you and I both know that this gardening thing is bullshit. Don’t patronize me, Jefferson.” 

Jefferson’s smile became very dark. “You know, Neal,” He said slyly. “I don’t think I’ve expressed to you how  _glad_  I am that you came to Storybrooke. Really. I think you and Emma are just the change this town needs.” 

He winked at him. Neal stood stock still. Finally, Jefferson chuckled to himself, and walked away, presumably back to the mansion. 

Ignoring him, Neal knelt down to the earth and began to dig with his hands. It was slow-going, but the earth slid between his fingers easily. He kept an ear out for footsteps, in case Gold came back to check his handiwork. It wouldn’t do to be discovered by Gold—particularly if he was starting to remember. 

If he remembered, Neal thought to himself as he wiped some sweat from his brow. If he remembered—did that mean he’d remember him? Rumplestiltskin hadn’t seen him for nearly fifteen years. Surely that was enough time to make him unsure of how his son would look. Nevertheless—nevertheless, Neal had to be careful. 

His hands closed on something square-shaped and wooden. Heart pounding, Neal dug more frantically, pulling the object towards him. Sure enough, his arms closed around a small locked chest. 

Neal shoved his dirt-caked hand in his pocket and withdrew a small silver hairpin. He thrust the instrument into the lock and worked mechanically, ignoring the growing darkness. This lock was trickier than most he’d come across—but it didn’t matter. Eventually, the lock gave way and the chest snapped open. 

Fingers trembling, Neal carefully lifted a heavy piece of cloth. Something was wrapped within it. Nausea nearly overpowered him for a moment, before he quickly unwrapped the bundle. 

There it was. The Dark One’s dagger. 

_He remembered. He must remember._  

Of course, he knew it was powerless in this world. This was a world without magic, a world where Gold’s only power came from his control and position over Storybrooke. But how long would it stay that way? Neal was no fool, he knew his father. Gold never settled for halfway, it was all or nothing. And he would not have come to this world without a contingency plan—a plan to remember who he was and a plan to get magic. 

Well, not if Neal could help it. Crawling out of the hole, Neal wound the cloth around the dagger and tucked it into the back of his pants, shutting the chest with a snap. He filled the hole quickly and thoroughly, patting his handiwork. Wiping his dirty hands on his jeans, he closed his eyes, trying to stave away the anxiety. 

He had to find Graham. Hours had passed, and Neal had no idea what had happened to his friend. But he  _had_  to get the knife away… 

Neal’s phone began to ring. Wearily, he wiped his hands on his jeans again, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He didn’t recognize the number. 

“Hello?” He answered. 

“Neal?” Emma’s voice was broken by sobs. She was crying…the tough, impenetrable Emma was  _crying_. 

“What happened?!” Neal demanded, fear lacing his voice. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” 

“It’s Graham…oh God…he’s—he’s—” She couldn’t finish, the sounds of her tears breaking Neal’s heart. He began to run. 

“Emma, I’m coming,” He said into the phone. “I’m coming—did you call an ambulance?” 

“ _Neal, he’s dead…he’s gone…oh God, Neal please…_ ”


	9. Ann

“Mary Margaret,” Neal said urgently. “You have to let me in.”

The dark-haired woman hesitated. Even while she remained ignorant of her connection to Emma, she was loyal to her friend and she knew a little of the complex history between the two. But there was genuine worry on her expression. 

“She—she hasn’t said a word to me,” Mary Margaret swallowed. “Just that Graham was—Graham was dead. Her face was…it was like talking to a stone. And then she shut herself up in her room…” Her voice choked on Graham’s name and her eyes filled with tears. 

Neal closed his own eyes. He’d found Emma sobbing on the floor, holding Graham’s lifeless body in her arms. The rest had been a blur of him frantically calling an ambulance, trying to revive Graham, trying to explain to the EMTs what had happened. When they’d taken him away, unable to resuscitate him, Emma had disappeared. 

There was no earthly reason why Emma would want to talk to him, want to see him. Nevertheless, he had run to Mary Margaret’s, pounded on the door, and begged to be let in. 

“Please let me see her,” Neal said quietly. “She’s not okay, Mary Margaret. She’s—she’s not okay.”

Mary Margaret bit her lip. After a long moment, she opened the door and allowed Neal to enter. 

Emma rarely let pain enter her heart. But when it happened, when something hurt her, she withdrew into herself. Behind her hardened shell, she licked her wounds clean—and then refused to acknowledge them ever again. And it would fester inside her like an infection. Neal knew this. He’d done this to her. 

He followed Mary Margaret’s directions to Emma’s room and softly knocked. 

“Emma?” Neal called. “It’s Neal. Please let me in, Emma.”

No response. He listened hard and heard a quiet sound. He tried the handle and it gave way. 

“Emma,” Neal took a step inside, careful to keep a wide berth. She was on the bed, curled into a little ball, head buried against her knees. Her entire body shook, though the room was warm. She was holding something in her hand…it looked like a brown shoelace…

“Emma,” Neal tried again. 

She lifted her head. She wasn’t crying, but her eyes were bloodshot, ringed with red. She stared at him for a long moment and Neal wondered if she was about to throw him out. 

“Neal,” She finally replied and her voice was broken, but an invitation. He went to her, sitting next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. She turned her face into his shoulder, but never cried. 

“I could’ve loved him,” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I could’ve loved him…”

“I know,” Neal whispered back, hugging her more firmly. “I know.” 

XXXX

Neal had never seen Emma cry. He’d seen her hurt, he’d seen pain flash across her face when she saw parents playing with their kids at the park, or a mom snuggling her daughter on the sidewalk. He’d seen her hungry, cold, shivering against him when the yellow bug died for a week, and they’d argued over who would eat the last half of a cheeseburger they’d bought using coins found under the seat. But he’d never seen her cry. 

The sunlight streaming through Emma’s window woke him and he blinked blearily, feeling stiff and uncomfortable. He was lying on Emma’s bed and his arm was asleep—probably because Emma was lying on top of it, her head pressed against his chest. She was breathing deeply and evenly, and his heart broke looking at her. 

Why did he ever leave her?

Neal heard Mary Margaret moving around in the kitchen—she was up, probably preparing hot chocolate and tea, their chosen drinks. He heard her hesitate for a second and to his surprise, he heard the coffeemaker turn on. 

When the mugs clinked together, Emma awoke with a jerk. For one brief beautiful moment, she looked at him with heavy-lidded eyes and a soft smile. Then reality sank in. 

“What are you doing here?” Emma’s voice was sotto voce, barely distinguishable as she tore herself away. She stood up, refusing to look at him.

“I came to check on you,” Neal answered heavily. “I was worried—after what happened to Graham—”

“It’s not your job to check on me, Neal,” Emma said coldly. “I don’t need you to comfort me.”

“I know that,” Neal said evenly. “I wanted to come anyway.”

“Why?” Emma spat, crossing her arms. “Why should it matter to you?”

Neal closed his eyes. He wanted to tell her the truth—it was his fault Graham had died. If he hadn’t gone off chasing his father’s past, if he had made the right choice…he could’ve stopped Regina. He could’ve kept this from happening. But once again…he’d made the wrong choice. 

“I came because I care about you,” Neal said finally. “And I didn’t want you to have to deal with this on your own.”

“You don’t get to do this, Neal,” Emma’s voice was hard. “Not everything that’s happened. You don’t get to just walk back into my life like nothing happened.”

“Emma, listen—” Neal tried to say.

“No, you listen!” She shouted suddenly. “You have no idea what it’s like to see you here—to see you playing with Henry, to see you laughing with him, to know that all of that, all this, could’ve been Tallahassee! And that it hurts just even being around you, none of it makes a goddamn difference!”

“Emma—”

“And when I try to move on, when I think for just one second I could find happiness with someone else—“ Emma tiled her head, staring hard at the ceiling. He watched her helplessly. 

“The worst part is,” Emma slowly met his gaze. “Is I have no idea—I still have no idea if all of it was just a con to you—or you really believed in Tallahassee. I have no idea if you loved me…”

“It wasn’t a con,” Neal’s voice cracked with emotion. “It wasn’t—Emma…”

“I want you to leave,” Emma stared at the floor. “You’re making this—you’re making Graham’s death harder, not easier. Just get out. I have to—I have to tell Henry…”

Neal left.

XXXX

“My birthday’s in three days! They’ll come for me in three days!”

“We’ll find a way. We’ll—we’ll find a way…”

Neal awoke in a cold sweat. Grimacing, he stumbled towards his bathroom, dry heaving into the toilet. Nightmares…nothing but nightmares since Graham’s murder. Visions of green portals, his father’s warm laugh turning into a high-pitched giggle, a cold hand letting him drop into the abyss…

He shuddered. Two weeks. He hadn’t seen Emma and Henry since Graham’s funeral. According to Regina, Henry didn’t want to see anyone. He could understand that, even if it hurt. Henry hadn’t expected Operation Cobra to hurt anyone—particularly anyone he loved. 

Neal went into the kitchen and put the coffee on, rubbing his eyes tiredly. There would be no more sleep tonight—he supposed he’d have to get used to getting up at 4AM. What was wrong with him? He hadn’t had nightmares like this since he was a kid…he’d taught himself to block it out.

Graham’s death…Graham’s death must’ve unlocked something within him. A reminder at the dangers of toying with magic. He felt a wave of nausea swell over him as he remembered the Dark One’s high-pitched giggle. 

Neal shook his head angrily. Stop it. Stop losing control. He was going to be late, he couldn’t afford to be all damaged right now. Quickly, he ducked back into his bedroom and began to change. 

XXXX

Time was strange here. He couldn’t quite narrow down the date, though he was pretty sure they were in late fall, early winter. Did they celebrate Christmas in Storybrooke? Perhaps not this year, the town seemed muted after Graham’s death. Subdued. He couldn’t blame them. 

“Henry!” Neal called out. His son was walking morosely, heading towards the bus stop. He turned and gave a half-hearted wave.

“How are you doing, kid?” Neal asked seriously, jogging to catch up with him. “I haven’t seen you in a while.” 

Henry shrugged, staring at his shoes. 

“C’mon, kid,” Neal pleaded. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I’m not supposed to…hang around you or Emma,” Henry mumbled, kicking at a twig.

“That’s never stopped you before,” Neal pointed out.

“I know but—I think we should stop. Stop Cobra stuff for a while. After what happened to Graham…you don’t play with that kinda stuff,” Henry wiped his nose absently, still not looking directly at Neal. 

“Henry,” Neal knelt down to look him in the eye. “Nothing’s going to happen to me or Emma. I’m not gonna let Regina hurt us. I promise.”

“That’s what Graham said,” Henry’s eyes filled with tears. “He said, ‘Don’t worry so much about your mum. She loves you, I’ll talk to her. Nothing bad will happen to you with me around.’ And now he’s dead!”

Neal swallowed hard. “Henry…”

“I’m scared of upsetting her,” Henry wiped his eyes. “She’s evil. If she gets mad at me again, she might hurt you and Emma—and I don’t want to lose you guys…” 

The bus rumbled towards them and Neal watched helplessly as his son climbed on. Henry never looked back. 

XXXX

“It feels wrong to run away.”

“It’s worse to die, son. I’m not having you taken away to the Ogres’ war!”

Neal gritted his teeth, taking another drink, trying to drown out the voices. The bartender glanced at him in concern. 

“You okay, Neal?” The bartender asked, starting to wipe a glass down.

“I will be,” Neal replied, turning over his glass. “Hit me again.”

The bartender removed a brown bottle, pouring him another glass. “What’s the matter, Neal?”

Neal’s lips twisted. He supposed the first problem was that the bartender had learned his name…was he really at The Rabbit Hole that often? 

“Nothing, man,” He rubbed his forehead. “Just had a long day. You know what? Leave the bottle.”

“I’m not sure if that’s…” The bartender sighed. “All right. But you’ve had three drinks already. Eat something.” He pushed a tin of peanuts towards him and Neal wrinkled in disgust. Food would settle his stomach. Take away the haze in his mind, the burn in his stomach. Bring him back to sober reality and that was not a place Neal wanted to be. 

“I’m Baelfire and I’m thirteen!”

“Did you teach him how to run as well, Rumplestiltskin? Did he tell you? Did he tell you how he ran and the ogres turned the tide of the battle, and all the others were killed, and he returned home to a wife who could not bear the sight of him?”

“Damn it,” Neal slammed his fist against the bar. “Stop it. Stop it.”

“You see, women do not like to be married to cowards.”

“I’m alone…friendless…the only thing I’ve got is my boy…and they’re going to take him away from me. If they take him away, I would truly, truly become dust.”

“Then why did you let me go?!” Neal screamed. His glass shattered in his hand and the other patrons stared at him. He stared at his hand in confusion, watching blood paint his fingers. He’d cut himself… 

“Hold still.”

Neal blinked in confusion as a small white hand efficiently wrapped a handkerchief around his bleeding hand. The young woman to his right tied a neat knot and sat back in satisfaction. 

“I didn’t need any help,” Neal muttered. “I’m fine.”

“Well, I suppose I could’ve let you bleed out,” The woman said mildly. “But I’ve noticed the bartender gets testy about bloodstains.” Her voice was gentle, soft, with an English accent. He looked at her more fully and noticed she was very beautiful—long dark hair, wide, sad eyes, high cheekbones, refined features. 

“A handkerchief?” Neal examined the bit of cloth. There were little embroidered designs that were hard to make out—the room had begun to spin—lions and goats or something.

“I’m a little old-fashioned,” The woman replied, taking a sip of her drink.

“Thanks,” He grunted. He made to stand, upsetting his barstool. The woman hopped off her stool and steadied his arm. 

“I’m fine,” Neal told her. “I just need to go home.”

“Where’s home?” She asked, arching a dark brow. 

“Jefferson’s manor,” Neal mumbled. “I gotta go. It’s late.”

“Very late,” The woman agreed. “Why don’t I drive you?”

Neal narrowed his eyes. “I’ll be all right.” 

“I’ve been sitting here for about four hours watching you deplete the Rabbit Hole’s whiskey and absinthe reserves,” The woman said clearly, folding her arms. “Let me give you a ride home. Even in Storybrooke, bad things happen.” 

“I’m good,” Neal said through gritted teeth. He bypassed her swiftly, striding out the door, knocking over a few more chairs in the process. His vision was beginning to blur—it had been a long time since he’d drunk this much. 

The path…he had to find the forest path…it was only a mile or so into the forest before he reached his cabin. He could make it. 

“If I own that dagger, I control the Dark One. If I kill the Dark One with the dagger, I take his powers.”

Neal had started to walk across the street, recognizing the path on the other end. It would be near the bridge, just down the road…it was a beautiful walk. The cool night air felt good on his face. 

“Imagine me with those powers. Can you imagine me with those powers, Bae? I could get to redeem myself. I could turn it towards good. I’ll save all the children of the Frontlands—not just you, my boy.” 

“He thought he could control it,” Neal mumbled, tripping over his feet. He rested his hand against a lamppost to steady himself.

“If the law says I’m to fight…I—I can fight!”

“I would’ve fought,” Neal spoke to the gathering darkness. “I would’ve died to keep him from becoming what he is.”

He squinted hard, trying to banish the assault of voices tumbling in his mind. Finally, he lifted his head and frowned. 

The Dark One stood before him. 

He was grinning that horrible, awful, evil grin. Holding the black dagger that bore his name, soundlessly laughing. 

“Remind me never to use absinthe as a chaser to whiskey,” Neal told the phantom. “You’re not real. Get out of here.”

“Have you forgotten me already?” The phantom chuckled. “Spindleshanks? Hobblefoot?” 

“Get out of here,” Neal growled. “Get out of my head!”

“You’re safe, Bae,” The spectre let out a high-pitched giggled. “Do you feel safe, son?”

“I’m not afraid of you anymore!” Neal shouted. “You have no right to be here! I have the dagger, I am in control!”

He rushed at the Dark One blindly, tearing the dagger out of his jacket pocket, slicing thin air. The phantom vanished and suddenly headlights blinded him. 

The blare of the horn was just enough to snap Neal out of his living nightmare, but it was the woman from the bar who pulled him out of the street, out of oncoming traffic. 

“Are you mad?” The woman thundered. “Trying to get yourself killed?”

Neal stared at her blankly. Reality was swimming, he couldn’t seem to see straight. Henry…Henry didn’t want to see him. Emma didn’t want to see him. He was trapped in a town with a monster…

“What’s your name?” The woman wanted to know. “You said you lived at Jefferson Manor? Is that a street?”

“No, it’s a…I live in a cabin…” Neal tried to focus. “Kind of a part-time gamekeeper for a guy named Jefferson. It’s just down that road in the forest…” He pointed vaguely and the woman nodded. 

“Right,” She said swiftly. “Come on. I’ll walk you there. You can direct me.” She took his arm and started to lead him down the path with firm strides. 

XXXX

“Ann Gresham.”

Neal glanced at her. “What?”

“Well, since you haven’t given me your name, I thought I’d give you mine,” Ann smiled a little crookedly. She drove carefully, almost tensely, as if the car was unfamiliar to her. 

“Neal Cassidy,” He exhaled slowly. 

“Ah,” Ann acknowledged. “You’re Henry’s father.”

Neal nodded. “You know him?”

“I’ve seen him out and about. He’s a sweet boy. Bright, engaging. Seems to read the right sort of books,” Ann smiled faintly. “Happier than he was.”

Not anymore, Neal thought to himself. I screwed it up for him. He loved Graham. Emma could have loved Graham. I ruined it for them, it was my fault he got killed…

“Neal.” 

He snapped out of his reverie. Ann flashed him a look of concern. 

“It’s nothing,” Neal coughed a little. “Just a few too many drinks. Bad reaction to absinthe.”

“Nightmares?” Ann inquired. 

He stiffened. There was something a little too curious about her tone. 

“Something like that,” He mumbled. “You can let me off here. It’s just a half mile into the woods anyway.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk with you?” Ann slowed to a stop and unlocked the front door. 

“No,” Neal shook his head. “I got it. Thanks for the ride.” He opened the passenger door and made to exit. Ann suddenly grabbed his arm. 

“Neal,” She said quietly. “I have nightmares too. Horrible ones.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” He said brusquely. “Good night.”

Ann released his arm. “That’s what I said too.”


	10. Heroes and Villains

Neal woke up with a splitting headache on the middle of his living room floor. He groaned loudly, wincing at the sunlight that came pouring through the window. Feeling slightly nauseous, he staggered up, clambering towards his kitchen.

He was no stranger to hangovers. Coffee, eggs, and a particularly greasy batch of bacon were the answer. He smiled faintly—if he’d gotten up later, he would’ve gone for a bacon cheeseburger and curly fries, that might even work better. 

He glanced at the clock on the mantle. 9:47. He had a meeting with Gold at 10. He considered calling the pawnshop and cancelling, shutting himself up indoors and hiding from the world. A vastly appealing idea. He let the idea tempt him for a brief moment before shaking it away. He was done hiding and done running away. 

Twenty minutes later, he arrived at Gold’s shop, sipping one of Granny’s extra-strength coffees. Gold appraised him coolly over the counter.

“You’re late,” He greeted him.

“Sorry,” Neal said shortly. “Late start to the morning.”

“So I heard,” Gold returned. Neal’s eyebrows rose.

“Oh, it’s all over town you were stumbling about, drunk as a fish, as they say,” Gold’s tone was clipped. “Tell me—you are still interested in appealing for custody, are you not?” 

Neal gritted his teeth. “Of course.”

“Well, which do you think looks more like a parent?” Gold’s tone was steel. “A successful mayor or a drunken idiot?”

“I had a bad night,” Neal clenched his fist. “It happens.”

“Not if you want your son,” Gold’s voice became strangely angry, rising from its usual polite coolness. “There’s no excuse for sacrificing your child’s welfare for a night of drunken fun. And if you do it again, I will no longer represent you. Is that clear?”

Neal stared at him hard. For some reason, this subject seemed almost sore with Gold. He hated to admit it, but his father was right. He couldn’t drown away his sorrows in alcohol. That would do nothing to break the curse and free Henry from Regina’s grip.

“I’m sorry,” Neal said at last. “You’re right. I messed up last night. It’s just—Graham’s death was really hard on Henry. And Emma. And me, I guess…Henry doesn’t want to see me anymore. He’s scared of something bad happening to me or Emma.” 

“Hm,” Gold considered him. “Well, you’ll have to prove to him that you’re strong enough to deal with whatever comes next.”

“And what is coming next?” Neal asked.

“Well first of all,” Gold said lightly. “It appears Miss Swan has decided to run for Sheriff against Sidney Glass—you know him. Madam Mayor’s little stooge.”

Neal’s eyes narrowed. “She has to run for sheriff? Shouldn’t it go to her automatically? She was the deputy.”

“Not according to Madam Mayor,” Gold smiled faintly. “Luckily, it appears Miss Swan is ready and willing to take up her challenge. Particularly since Madam Mayor appears to be fighting dirty.”

“What do you mean?” Neal wanted to know.

As an answer, Gold withdrew a newspaper from behind the counter. Neal took it from him, his eyes widening. The headline read: EX-JAILBBIRD – EMMA SWAN BIRTHED BABE BEHIND BARS.

Neal’s stomach lurched. “Are you kidding me?! She authorized this?! Does she even care about Henry?”

“Well, that’s up for debate, isn’t it?” Gold said philosophically. “This does, however, give us a bit of an opportunity. Swan and Mills go head to head, regardless of the lad’s feelings…is Regina or Emma in Henry’s best interest?”

Neal frowned. “You’re saying you want to use this—this fight between Emma and Regina? To back my case for custody?”

“Any judge would see this squabble as very detrimental to the boy,” Gold replied, tapping his fingers on his cane. “I’m simply suggesting we point that out.”

“That’s…that’s not what I want,” Neal tried to argue. “I don’t want Emma to be seen as a bad parent. She’s got as much right as I do for custody of Henry.”

“Legally, they won’t see it that way,” Gold cleared his throat. “By all means, Mr. Cassidy—think the matter over. I’m sure you’ll come to the right decision.”

“Whatever,” Neal grunted. “I’ll talk to you later.” He turned his back on Gold and walked out the door. 

He and Emma were supposed to be a team. They were supposed to be working together to break this town’s curse, to get Henry away from Regina’s poisonous influence. But Emma wasn’t speaking to him—in her mind, he’d crossed a line. And maybe he had. But could he really go against her as an adversary? Wouldn’t that deepen the betrayal?

Neal noticed the doors to Granny’s open and Henry walked out. Quickening his pace, he jogged over towards his son. To his surprise, Henry remained where he was, eyeing him warily. 

“Hey Dad,” Henry said quietly. 

“Hey kid,” Neal greeted him with relief. “How’s it going?”

In response, Henry handed him a folded up newspaper. Neal groaned. 

“You saw that, huh?” Neal sighed, tucking the newspaper away. “I’m sorry, kid. Regina shouldn’t have done that.”

Henry’s brow furrowed. “Dad—why did you leave Emma?”

Neal exhaled slowly. He nodded at his son, gesturing for them to take a walk. Henry followed, still looking glum.

“It’s kinda complicated,” Neal shoved his hands in his coat pockets. “Basically—I found out that Emma had a destiny, a destiny to break a curse and save her family. And…that if she were with me, I’d stop that from happening, even unintentionally.”

“I don’t see how,” Henry pointed out. “You’ve helped me with Operation Cobra. Wouldn’t you have helped Emma too?”

Neal sighed. “I’d have tried. But the thing is, every time I’ve tried to take fate into my own hands, it’s always backfired.”

Henry shrugged. “I was just thinking…I was just thinking that if you’d stayed with Emma, maybe she wouldn’t have gone to jail. Maybe we could’ve all been a family.”

Neal sighed. “I know. I wish…I wish things had been different.” 

Henry wiped his nose. “Why was Emma in jail?”

Neal stopped. He closed his eyes before taking a deep breath.

“She was in jail because of me,” He said finally. “For something I did.”

Henry’s eyes widened. “You—you framed her?”

“I—I didn’t mean to,” Neal’s voice was weak. “I didn’t know that was what he’d—I didn’t know that was going to happen.”

Henry’s expression crumpled. “But you just—you just left her there?”

Neal felt slightly sick. “I—I sent her money to bail her out. Or at least…I thought I did. But I think—I know I trusted the wrong person to bail her out. And then…then I was too much of a coward to see her again. To face up to what I did.”

Henry processed this for a while. Neal watched him anxiously—waiting for the disappointment, waiting for the rejection. 

“I guess it doesn’t matter,” Henry said finally. “We still have Operation Cobra. We still have to convince Emma she’s the Savior.”

A wave of relief fell over Neal. He hugged his son once more, which Henry accepted tolerantly. Nevertheless, it still felt as though something had shifted between them. But regardless—Neal was determined to prove himself to his son. 

XXXX

Neal was enjoying a quiet dinner at Granny’s when Leroy burst into the diner—there had been an explosion in the mayor’s office. 

His heart pounding, he leapt from his table and stampeded out the door, rushing past Leroy. Henry often stopped by Regina’s office after school or right before his therapy sessions…

He heaved a sigh of relief when he saw Henry outside, staring with wide eyes at the firefighters. 

“You okay, kid?” Neal exhaled, tapping his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Henry answered excitedly. “Emma rescued my mom!” 

Neal glanced at Regina, who appeared to be snapping at Sidney and fighting off an oxygen mask. 

“Sounds like something Emma would do,” Neal smiled. “She’s the Savior, right?”

“Wow,” Henry breathed. He ran over towards Emma, who was surrounded by a crowd of people. Emma greeted him happily, glancing at Neal. Her face hardened and she looked away, focusing her attentions on their son. 

Neal turned away from her as well, looking at the rubble and debris. He frowned suddenly, bending down, picking something up. Lanolin. Made from sheep. Neal hadn’t seen it in years. 

But it was very flammable. Rumplestiltskin had used it liberally when he first swiped the Dark One’s dagger from the duke of the frontlands. Neal glanced at the burning wreckage and stared at the lanolin in his hands. He remembered what Gold had said, about setting Regina and Emma up as adversaries. His fist clenched as a dark suspicion crept into his mind.

“Neal?”

He turned around to see Ann blinking at him. He waved half-heartedly. 

“Gracious,” Ann examined the scene. “What happened here?”

“Some kind of fire,” Neal exhaled. “Emma dragged Regina out.”

“Very heroic,” Ann commented. “And look—the town seems quite abuzz. I heard Mary Margaret say she wants to put up campaign posters. Perhaps she truly will beat Sidney in the election.”

“One can only hope,” Neal said wryly. “The last thing we need in Storybrooke is to give Regina more power.” He fidgeted a little with the lanolin—wouldn’t that be the last thing Gold wanted as well? 

“Perhaps,” Ann agreed. “Are you free right now? Would you like to grab a drink?”

Neal’s attention diverted. Emma was storming away from the scene, fire in her gaze—and heading straight for Gold’s office.

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” Neal started to walk away. “I’m swearing off drinks for a while.”

XXXX

He didn’t enter Gold’s shop. It was clear Emma was having a confrontation of sorts and he did not want to be caught in the crosshairs of that interaction. His presence would only make the situation uglier. But it wasn’t long before she stalked outside, slamming the door closed.

“Emma,” He called out towards her. She glared at him and began to storm off in the opposite direction. 

“What did he do?” Neal shouted. “Tell me!”

“Why do you care?” She yelled. “Why do you care what he’s up to?”

He found no response to that. This seemed to enrage Emma further and she approached him, her expression very black.

“Did you know?” Emma challenged. “Do you know? About what he just pulled? Are you working for him?”

“I’m working for Jefferson—” Neal tried to interject.

“Bullshit!” Emma snarled. “I know you’ve been meeting with Gold. I know you’re fighting for custody. Do you know the shit you’re wading through, with this Neal?”

“Yeah, I know,” Neal’s voice was dark. “And I know a hell of a lot better than you.”

Emma threw her hands up in the air. “There you go again! You know something! You’re keeping shit from me again!” 

“Who needs to keep anything from you?” Neal shouted back. “You shut me out either way!”

Emma froze and Neal cursed himself silently. He opened his mouth to take it back, to try and apologize, but Emma had already stormed off. Raking his fingers through his hair, he thought about charging into the shop, demanding answers.

His hand shifted into his pocket. Lanolin. The same material they’d used to set the Duke of the Frontlands’ castle ablaze. 

Rumplestiltskin had set that castle on fire to save his son. It had been a wicked thing to do, but it had been a way to limit the Duke’s power and protect his family.

Was it possible that in the present day, Rumplestiltskin was doing something similar? Limiting Regina’s power over the town? Trying to protect his family?

Neal shook himself briskly. Gold didn’t know he was here. Obviously, he remembered who he was—why else would he have buried the dagger? But he didn’t know who Neal was. He didn’t know that Neal was Baelfire. That, at least, was some protection. 

But it also meant that Gold’s schemes were not for his benefit. 

“What happened to you?” Neal asked quietly.

He turned away from the shop and walked away.

XXXX

“Hey, Dad.”

Neal choked on his coffee. Henry smirked at the noise, sliding into the booth, helping himself to some of Neal’s French toast. 

“Talking to me again?” Neal grinned at him, taking a drink of water. “That’s a relief!”

“Well,” Henry admitted. “I think I gave up too quick.”

“I could’ve told you that,” Neal reached over and ruffled his hair.

“I mean—Emma saved my mom! Even though my mom is the Evil Queen! That’s what she does, right? She’s the Savior. She’s got to win!” Henry took another large bite of French toast.

“That’s right, kid,” Neal agreed. “Good can win.”

Henry chewed musingly. “Yeah—it’s just…I was scared. Good has to fight fair, evil doesn’t. The Evil Queen got the curse by not playing fair. And how the curse was made—that wasn’t fair either!”

“Things are rarely fair on either end,” Neal intoned gently.

“But what about when Rumplestiltskin stole the dagger from the Duke? Like in the story?” Henry protested.

Neal stiffened. He’d almost forgotten how familiar Henry was with his past, once he’d learned that his father was Baelfire. 

“What about it?” Neal said warily.

“I mean…he did that for a good reason. Wasn’t it still good fighting evil?”

“Maybe it started off that way,” Neal sighed. “There’s truth in the old saying, Henry. The road to Hell is paved with good intentions.” 

His son’s brow furrowed. “What does that mean? That even if we pull off Operation Cobra, it could go wrong, and we could become evil?”

Neal snorted. “I can’t imagine you ever being evil,” He ruffled Henry’s hair. “But good people can do terrible things. That’s something confusing about life.”

“Like you leaving Emma?”

Neal winced. “Exactly like that. It was the worst thing I ever did and I’ve never forgiven myself for it.”

“But you’re still good,” Henry told him seriously. “You’re still Baelfire. You’re still the boy who wanted to save his father. Just like I want to save Storybrooke.” 

Neal smiled at him. There was something heartwarming about Henry drawing parallels between them. But Henry was already smarter and nobler than he could ever hope to be. How on earth had he ended up with such a wonderful kid?

“Are you going to the debate today?” Henry asked.

“I don’t think so,” Neal replied honestly. “I want to support Emma—and right now, the way to do that is to make myself scarce.”

Henry wrinkled. “She’s mad at you again?”

“Long story,” Neal sighed. “I’m glad you’re talking to me again. See you tomorrow?”

“Definitely,” Henry grinned.

XXXX

Neal did not attend the debate. He didn’t want to do anything to throw Emma off her game or upset her further. So he spent the evening at Granny’s, in the near empty bar. He’d promised himself that he would swear off drinks, but allowed himself a whiskey, just to take the edge off. He wouldn’t lose control. 

The door swung open and he started a little when Emma walked in. She stiffened when she saw him and for a moment, Neal was sure she would walk right back out. But instead, she took a seat at the other end of the bar, ordering a drink. 

He thought about leaving himself, to give her more space. But before he could do so, the door opened and Henry walked in. He brightened when he saw his parents—even if they were at opposite ends of the bar.

“Dad!” Henry ran to him excitedly. “You should’ve seen Emma! She stood up to Mr. Gold!”

Neal quirked his head. “What?”

“She told everyone that he set up the fire at my mom’s office and that she didn’t want to win that way. And Mr. Gold—he just got up and walked out! Everyone knew he was guilty! Can you believe it?”

His eyes were bright and excited. But something unsettled Neal. He swallowed, glancing at Emma, who didn’t look at either of them. 

“I’ll be right back,” Neal ruffled Henry’s hair. He paid his tab and walked out into the autumn night, headed towards Mr. Gold’s shop.

The shop was closed, but light illuminated the inside. Ignoring the sign, Neal walked inside brusquely, the little bell jangling. He approached the counter, where Gold was quietly polishing a small chipped teacup. 

“Looks like everything worked out for you,” Neal folded his arms. “Emma told the whole town how you framed Regina, how she didn’t want to win that way, because it was dishonest. She came off a her, Regina came off an idiot, and you came off the villain everyone in town hates.”

“I suppose so,” Gold acknowledged. “It’s such a shame. I did hope Emma had a little more ambition…”

“No you didn’t,” Neal said flatly. “She did exactly what you wanted her to do. You played the entire town—everyone who wants to see her as a hero did. Everyone who wanted to hate you more did. Everyone who wanted Regina to lose…you played everyone’s emotions, everyone’s roles to your advantage. Heroes and villains.” 

Gold eyed him. “You seem to have such an impression of me, Mr. Cassidy. I do wonder where you get it from.” 

“Why are you like this?!” Neal exploded. “Why are people just—just pawns to you?! Has there ever been anything in your goddamn miserable existence that you actually cared about? Anyone who wasn’t a little cog in whatever machine you’re running?!”

Gold’s hands paused. He turned and gently placed the teacup in a small cushioned case, fastening it shut. He then faced Neal squarely.

“Do pass on my congratulations to Miss Swan,” He said smoothly. “But I’m afraid we’re closed now. We’ll reconvene another time.”

Without a word, Neal turned and stalked out the door. He was breathing heavily, images and flashes of green light tormenting his mind. He could hear the Dark One’s cruel laughter, the melody of Pan’s music, the blood on Rumplestiltskin’s cloak, the scaly grip releasing him into darkness…

“I can’t do this,” Neal whispered into the night. “I can’t keep pretending. I can’t…”

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. Dazedly, he turned to see Ann Gresham, looking a little worried.

“Are you all right?” She asked, her dark brows furrowing. “You’ve just been…standing. Standing here in the middle of the street.”

“I don’t know anymore,” Neal sighed. “I got no idea.”

She nodded slowly. “How about that drink, then?”

“Yeah,” Neal said quietly. “I think that’s a good idea. I need one.”

She took his arm and he allowed himself to be led towards the Rabbit Hole. So engrossed in the horrifying memories of his father, so caught up in his fears and agitation, he didn’t notice Emma walking down the other side of the street towards Mary Margaret’s apartment. 

But she noticed him, walking arm in arm with a dark-haired girl.


	11. A Moral Compass

“I DIDN’T steal!”

Neal held up his hands. “Whoa, kid, relax. I was just asking. I stole candy and comics all the time when I was not much older than you, so—”

“But I didn’t!” Henry shouted. “Just because I’m your son, doesn’t mean I’m exactly like you!”

Neal fell silent. They were sitting in Granny’s diner, each with an ice cream sundae. A few hours prior, Regina had made a snotty comment to Neal, insinuating that perhaps Neal was teaching Henry some of his thieving tricks, considering he’d nearly been arrested for shoplifting. Now Neal realized that this had been a setup—Regina had hoped Neal would broach the topic with Henry and upset him. He cursed himself for falling into such a stupid trap. 

“You’re right,” Neal said finally, swirling his spoon into his dish. “You’re a better kid than I was, anyhow. You’ve got a moral compass that goes true north. I should’ve known better.” 

Henry angrily took a large bite of ice cream. There was a cold silence for a few moments as Henry swallowed. 

“I just don’t like getting in trouble for something I didn’t do,” He said finally. “Ava and Nicholas were tricking me. I should’ve known that they didn’t want to be my friend.”

Neal’s brow furrowed. “Who’s Ava and Nicholas?”

Henry shrugged. “Some kids that go to my school. They planted the candy in my bag and I got framed for it. Regina didn’t believe them, though, so Emma didn’t arrest me.”

“I doubt Emma would have arrested you in any case,” Neal said dryly. “Maybe I should talk to the kids’ parents.” 

“Emma and Regina already tried,” Henry informed him. “They gave them a fake number. I don’t think they have parents. Regina said something about putting them up in foster care. I heard her on the phone with Social Services.”

Neal winced. “I’ll bet Emma’s thrilled about that.” 

He had avoided very long in the foster care system—he’d arrived in this realm as a teenager and after one awful experience with a family, decided that he’d be better off on his own. But Emma had spent her entire childhood and adolescence in the foster care system, being shuffled around from family to family. It had hurt her deeply. It was one of the reasons they connected…Neal had been abandoned by his father, for selfish reasons. Emma had been abandoned too—multiple times.

In the end, it left them alone. 

“Emma’s trying to find their father,” Henry told him. “I think that’s a good idea. If their father knows they’re on their own, then maybe he’ll help them.”

“Maybe,” Neal said doubtfully. 

“Why wouldn’t they?” His son asked. “You did after I found you.” 

“Let’s just say that I might not be a common example,” Neal exhaled. They finished their sundaes talking about nothing more than Henry’s latest school assignments and what the holidays would be like. Once finished, Neal paid their tab and walked outside. 

“Appointment with Archie?” Neal asked. He’d learned Henry’s schedule.

“Yup,” Henry replied, giving his father a brief hug. “Sorry I got mad earlier.”

“Don’t be,” Neal said gruffly. “I shouldn’t have accused you.”

Henry shrugged half-heartedly. “Well, I have stolen before. But only in very desperate circumstances. Like when I stole Miss Blanchard’s credit card to find you and Emma.” 

“Fair enough,” Neal laughed, giving him another hug. Henry trotted off, heading towards Archie’s office. Neal watched him, making sure his son entered the building, before proceeding to the sheriff’s office. 

Emma was sitting at her desk, eating a sandwich. Her legs were casually propped up against her desk as she examined some paperwork, looking oddly at ease. She fit the role of sheriff well, something neither one of them could ever have guessed. 

“Heard Henry got into a little trouble,” Neal cleared his throat. She narrowed her eyes. 

“He didn’t,” She corrected him. “Just the kids that were with him. Madame Mayor saw to that.”

“Are the kids okay?” Neal asked. 

Emma looked at him. He expected an angry glare, her usual furious irritation with his presence—but he was surprised to find her expression blank. Something was bothering her. 

“I don’t know,” She took a sip from her mug. “I’m…I’m trying to find the father. Regina wants to ship them off, separate them, and I just—I can’t let that happen.” 

“I know,” Neal said quietly. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Emma stared at him. There it was again. That strange vulnerability. This situation had to be truly hurting her, to forget her anger at him. 

“Those kids need each other,” She told him. “They rely on each other. It’s not fair to rip them apart.” 

Neal nodded in agreement, unsure of what she was getting at. 

“You didn’t have any brother or sisters,” Emma’s expression twisted. “Neither did I. It was harder on our own, wasn’t it?”

He nodded again. He carefully took a seat across from her desk, folding his hands. 

“There’s that,” Neal said heavily. “But do you think returning them to their father is the best idea? What if he’s worse than them being on their own?”

Emma opened her mouth to respond when suddenly Henry bounced in. He withdrew the storybook with gusto and plopped it on her desk. 

“Archie has a cold,” He announced. “I know who Ava and Nicholas are. They’re brother and sister, lost, no parents—Hansel and Gretel.” 

Emma sighed in exasperation. “Anything in there about the dad?”

Henry shrugged. “Just that he abandoned them.”

“Great. Sounds like a familiar story,” Emma grumbled, returning to her paperwork. “Whoever this guy is, he could be in Laos by now.”

Henry shook his head. “No, he’s here.”

“Just how do you know that?” Emma challenged.

“Cuz no one leaves Storybrooke,” Henry said firmly. “No one comes here, no one goes. It’s just the way it is.” 

“I came here,” Emma reminded him. “So did Neal.”

“Because you two are special,” Henry told her. “You’re the first strangers here—ever.”

Emma slumped against her chair, apparently resigned to Henry’s certainty. “Well, if he’s around here anywhere, I’m going to find him.”

Henry cleared his throat. Neal and Emma looked at him expectantly.

“Can I ask you guys something?” Their son requested. 

Neal and Emma looked at each other. Something about Henry’s tone made both of them nervous. 

“What’s up?” Emma said warily. 

“The two of you,” Henry bit his lip. “I just…I just wanted to more about you two. How you met and…and how you fell in love. Before everything got messed up.” 

Emma stiffened and Neal flushed. So this was the question Henry wanted to ask. Truth be told, Neal was surprised he hadn’t asked it earlier to each of them privately. But perhaps that was their devious son’s point. 

“I was pretty young,” Emma said finally. “We…we both were.” 

Neal scratched the back of his neck. “I was asleep in the back of a yellow bug. Suddenly the car started moving and I realized I was being carjacked by an attractive blonde girl.”

Emma looked outraged. “It wasn’t your car to begin with!”

Henry giggled. “Emma stole a stolen car?! The yellow bug?!”

“You got it,” Neal winked at his son. “So if you’re asking if it was love at first sight—well, for me it was.” 

Emma crossed her arms and her expression became inscrutable. Perhaps he’d gone too far with that remark. 

“Did you get married?” Henry asked. 

“No, nothing like that,” Emma shook her head. “We just…we were partners for a time. I’d just gotten out of the foster care system and he’d been homeless for a while, so we…”

“We took care of each other,” Neal finished softly. She closed her eyes at that and swallowed hard. Henry watched the two of them carefully. 

“We weren’t married,” Neal glanced at Emma. “But I got her…I got her that key chain. The swan one.” 

Emma’s hands drifted to her neck. The conversation had turned to dangerous waters, filling them both with bittersweet memories. It should’ve been forever. It should’ve lasted forever. 

“And you got pregnant with me,” Henry concluded. “But didn’t tell him about it.”

A flash of pain crossed Emma’s features, but before she could reply, Neal interjected.

“She did what she had to do, kid,” He tousled Henry’s hair. “She wanted to give you your best chance. I betrayed her. She had no reason to trust me with you. Besides, she’s right. I was a homeless urchin who’d sent her to jail. I couldn’t have taken care of you. There was no reason for her to tell me.” 

Henry processed this slowly. Emma’s fingers were still touching her swan necklace when suddenly she jerked to a realization.

“I gotta go,” Relief filled her face. “I think I know how to find this guy!”

XXXX

The man was called Michael Tillman. He worked in an auto garage not far from the closed library. Neal wasn’t entirely sure how Emma had gotten the name, but felt it was better not to ask. She had actually asked him to accompany her to see Ava and Nicholas’ father, which Neal took as a positive sign. He had to wonder why though. Perhaps Henry’s questions had reminded her of better days. 

Still, Michael Tillman was less than cooperative.

“Not possible,” He declared, handing their file back to Emma. 

“Actually, it is,” Emma retorted.

“Well, I’m sorry, but Dory—she wasn’t my, um…it was just once.”

“Sometimes that’s all it takes,” Emma’s reply was fairly sardonic and Neal resisted the urge to say something snarky. The situation was uncomfortable enough, it didn’t need bad jokes. 

“I met her when I was camping,” Michael said awkwardly. “And we…um…no, it’s not possible. I don’t have twins!” 

“Yes, you do,” Emma insisted. “You have twins that have been homeless ever since their mother passed away. You have twins who have been living in an abandoned house because they don’t want to be separated from each other. You have twins who are about to be shipped off to Boston, unless you step up and take responsibility for them.”

Michael looked distinctly uncomfortable. Neal felt a burst of pity for him. There was nothing quite as terrifying as realizing that you had a responsibility for someone else.

“Look—I can barely manage this garage. I can’t manage two kids…and why are you so sure they’re mine?” He offered up weakly.

Emma showed him the compass. Michael recognized it immediately. The realization that there was no way out—that those two kids were his—sank on him heavily. Neal sighed, stepping forward. 

“I’ve been where you’re at, man,” He told him. “We both have. Emma and me—we never expected to have a kid show up on our doorsteps. Frankly, we never thought we’d see each other again.”

“With good reason,” Emma cut in sourly. “But here’s the thing. I don’t have my kid because I don’t have a choice. You do. Those kids did not ask to be brought into this world and they need you. If you choose not to take them…well, one day you’re going to have to answer to them.”

“I don’t know anything about being a dad!” Michael burst out.

“You think I did?” Neal said incredulously. “You think any parent knows how to be a dad?”

Emma glanced at him and he ran his fingers through his hair in agitation. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down.

“Look man, I get it,” Neal said finally. “I get it. Kids weren’t—a part of your plan. You were comfortable. You have a life here, you have a job, you didn’t want anything to interrupt it. That was me a couple months ago.”

Michael exhaled slowly. “Look…”

“I screw up,” Neal told him. “I screw up every day with Henry. I constantly make mistakes. Y’know what? That’s part of being a dad. Those kids don’t expect you to be Superman. They just…they just want you in their life.”

“I can’t…I can’t do this…” Michael said helplessly. 

A ripple of anger overtook Neal. “Fine. Abandon them. That’s on you.” 

He turned away from Michael Tillman and stalked off, heading in the direction of the bar. Emma caught up with him immediately.

“Helpful,” She said dryly.

“C’mon, Emma,” Neal growled. “We’re wasting our time with this guy. If he doesn’t step up now, he never will.”

“I have a backup plan,” Emma told him. “A last ditch thing, right before I take them to Boston. Don’t give up, Neal. Not everyone can be as great a dad as you first thing.”

He froze and stared at her. She shrugged a little, giving him a rare smile. Was he forgiven? Neal couldn’t quite tell, but the compliment meant the world to him. 

“Thanks,” He said quietly. “I’m…I’m trying.”

“I know you are,” Emma responded softly. “Despite our history. And I appreciate that. I hope you know that I appreciate it.”

She gave him a long look, one of her puzzling expressions he couldn’t quite define. He nodded at her, acknowledging her appreciation.

“Emma,” Neal said finally. “Do you ever think—”

“I gotta get to Boston,” Emma said suddenly. “I gotta…I’ll see you later.” 

Before he could stop her, she walked off.

XXXX

Michael Tillman manned up. Henry was pleased to report to Neal that Emma’s con worked. On the way to Boston, Emma pulled over, claiming her engine stalled. She called the local auto serviceman—Michael Tillman—and he had an attack of conscience right there on the highway road. The orphans and their father were reunited to what would be far from happily ever after. Neal knew that from experience.

“Still,” Henry said cheerfully, slurping his cocoa a few weeks later. “It’s a good sign! Things are changing around here, thanks to Emma!”

As if on cue, Emma entered the diner. Noticing Henry and Neal sitting at a booth together, she nervously approached.

“Mind I if I join?” She asked, clearing her throat. “I’m starving.”

Neal stared at her startled. “Yeah! Sure! Of course!” 

Henry slid, making room for Emma. Emma ordered a cheeseburger with extra bacon and looked Neal in the eye, smiling faintly. 

The three of them sitting in a booth together. About to eat lunch. Almost like…almost like a family. 

“So Neal, I have to ask you something,” Emma started in, taking a sip of coke. “Are you and that woman—”

The diner door opened. Almost simultaneously, the diner turned and stared at the stranger who strode in. He was tall, with a bit of scruff and bright blue eyes, wearing a leather jacket and motorcycle boots. He leaned against the counter charmingly, saying something to Ruby. Neal froze, his expression turning into shock.

August Booth had entered the diner.

“Hey!” Henry chirped. “It’s the stranger Emma and I met!”

Everything seemed to pass in slow motion for Neal. Emma noticed Neal’s strange expression and asked what was wrong, but he barely heard her. He slowly rose and took a few steps towards August.

August noticed him and his eyes widened. But before he could say anything, run away, or do anything at all, Neal pulled back and punched him as hard as he could. August crumpled to the floor, his arms splaying over the counter, knocking dishes everywhere. The diner gasped at the commotion, but Neal didn’t hear anything. 

“You son of a bitch!”


	12. A Chipped Cup

“Neal! What the hell?!”

Neal barely heard her. “Guardian angel? I’d say you’ve been doing a pretty crap job.” “She has a destiny. And you? This life? You’re going to keep her from it.” “And if I can’t be there for her, man, you got to promise me that you will be…if anything changes, and she does her job, this inanity ends, and she’s free…” He pulled his arm back to get another punch in but was abruptly stopped by Emma snatching his arm and pinning him to the counter. 

“Let go, Emma,” He growled, watching August scramble up and back away quickly. He weaseled outside and Neal attempted to wrest himself free from Emma’s grip. He was rewarded for his efforts by another slam on the counter. 

“Forget it,” She snapped and he heard the clink of cuffs. He groaned when she handcuffed him.

“Are you serious?!” He snarled at her. “Are you seriously cuffing me?”

“You don’t exactly leave me much choice!” Emma yelled. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Neal slowly became aware that the entire diner was staring at him. He’d just attempted to beat the hell out of a man in the middle of a family diner. Henry still sat in his chair, eyes wide with fright. 

That was the worst of it. He’d scared his son. 

“I have to take you to the station,” Emma nudged him to the door. “You know that, right?”

Neal resisted the urge to call her a narc. 

Twenty minutes later, he grumpily sat behind bars, glaring at Emma. To her credit, her anger had passed sooner than he’d expected, and she seemed to be enjoying the irony in jailing her ex. 

“Okay,” Emma hung her phone up. “Well, Mr. Cassidy, you’re in luck. August doesn’t want to press charges.”

“I’ll bet he doesn’t.”

“So,” She dragged a chair in front of the cell and took a seat. “You wanna tell me what that was about?” 

“Not particularly,” Neal retorted sullenly. 

“Okay then,” Emma took a sip of her cocoa. “We can play this game if you want to. Obviously you know August from somewhere. Before you met me or after?”

His fists clenched. “During,” He spat.

Her eyes widened. Neal resolved to keep his mouth shut.

After a long moment, her eyes narrowed. “Was he the one who fenced the watches?”

“No,” Neal’s voice turned gruff. “Leave it, Emma.”

“Forget it,” Emma snapped. “Call it gut instinct—but why do I get the feeling that August has something to do with me going to jail and you pulling your disappearing act?” 

He’d already given up too much. Emma wasn’t supposed to know any of this. She was too damn sharp for her own good. 

“He’s just a guy who owes me money,” Neal said darkly. 

“Nice try,” Emma said flatly. “I’ve only seen you get that pissed off a couple of times.”

Neal refused to answer, choosing to stare at the ceiling. Emma sighed impatiently. 

“Look,” Her voice became more measured. “If there’s something sketchy about this August guy…well, you know Regina asked me to investigate him?”

A muscle in Neal’s jaw twitched.

“You know, he was talking to Henry outside his house the other day, so—” Emma began.

Neal’s head jerked towards her and he stood suddenly, hands wrapping around the bars. “Keep that scumbag away from Henry!”

“Why?!” Emma demanded. “What do you know about him?!”

Neal refused to answer. But his temper melted away as he stared into Emma’s concerned expression. He rested his head against the cold bars, feeling interminably weary.

He froze when he felt Emma’s palms curl around his hands. 

“You know, Neal,” Emma said quietly. “There’s so much—there’s so much we could resolve. So much we could get past—if you’d just talk to me.”

He stared at her. Her thumb rubbed against his knuckles, still curled around the metal bars. It took everything in him not to release and take her hands. But if he did, he knew he’d confess everything. His past, his connection to August, her destiny…all of it. And Emma would never accept it. 

“Sorry to interrupt, Sheriff.”

Emma snatched her hands away quickly, taking a step backwards. August Booth had entered the sheriff’s office, tilting his head curiously at the pair of them. 

“You weren’t,” Emma stuffed her hands in her pockets. “You need something?” 

“I was going to pay his bail,” August said smoothly. “If that’s all right with you, Sheriff.”

Emma looked startled. “You want to pay his bail? The guy who tried to beat the shit out of you?” 

“Provided that Neal take a walk with me—and promise not to try it again,” August smiled at Neal who glowered back. 

Emma’s hands went on her hips. “How do you know Neal?”

“We go way back,” August said cheerfully. “We’re from the same hometown, actually.”

Emma watched him in silence and then sighed, turning towards Neal. She raised her eyebrows, silently asking. 

“He can do what he wants,” Neal folded his arms. “I’m not gonna promise not to kick his ass though.” 

“Just give me two minutes, Neal,” August said earnestly. “Just a quick two minute walk.”

“Fine,” Neal said through gritted teeth. 

Emma gave both of them an uncertain glance and finally unlocked the cell door. Neal stepped out and imagined various ways to throttle August—but did not make another move towards him. Instead, Neal nodded curtly at Emma and started for the door. 

XXXX

Once outside, August led him to a forest path near the Troll Bridge, out of earshot. Neal was more than amenable to this. If August pissed him off further, there’d be no witnesses towards Neal’s response. 

“I have to say,” August sighed. “I am surprised to see you here.”

“You and me both,” Neal leaned against the side of the bridge. 

“Particularly since I thought we had a deal,” August folded his arms. “About leaving Emma lone to find her destiny.”

“And I thought you swore to tell me if anything changed,” Neal’s eyes were like daggers. “Like, say, if she were pregnant.”

August sighed in an incredibly patronizing manner. “C’mon, Neal. If you knew that Emma was pregnant, you never would have left her.”

“You’re damn right, I wouldn’t.”

“And Emma would probably be living in a double-wide with you, completely unaware of her destiny. Her family would still be in Storybrooke, living out their cursed existence, while Regina remains in power,” August’s voice became even more disgusted. 

“What makes you so damn sure I’m in the way of Emma’s destiny?” Neal demanded. “That’s something I never asked you before—I was too freaked that there were people from the Enchanted Forest in this world. Don’t you think it would’ve helped her to know she wasn’t alone? That we were in this together? I could’ve helped her find her way here!”

“Don’t lie to yourself, Neal,” August said in a bored tone. “You had no intention of ever dealing with your past. You loved Emma because she represented a normalcy that you craved. You would’ve kept her from her destiny for your own selfish purposes.”

“You really think that?” Neal snarled. “You really think I’d allow her to leave her family to rot?”

“I know you wouldn’t have,” August smiled. “You wanna know why?”

Neal glared at him.

“Because the truth is, Neal, you’re just like me. Selfish. Cowardly. You’d rather bury yourself in distractions than face up to your past.”

Neal took a menacing step towards him. “Watch it, Booth. You forget that I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“How long, Neal?” August didn’t budge. “How long would it have taken if your son hadn’t found you? Would you have waited for my postcard, letting you know the curse was broken? Or would you still be in New York, pretending to live a normal life?”

Neal didn’t move. August took a step towards him, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“Just like me,” He said quietly. “Just like your father. Cowardly. Selfish. Yeah, I took the $20,000 you gave me. But you were the one that thought you could buy off your guilt. Yeah, I convinced you to leave Emma. But the moment you realized who she truly was, a part of you hated her for connecting you to that world again.”

At this, August walked past him, headed towards town, whistling slightly. Neal watched him go. 

He needed a drink. 

XXXX

Neal kept his distance from Henry and Emma for a while. Emma, who didn’t have time to deal with her ex’s August drama, kept her focus on taking down Regina—apparently Regina had torn down Henry’s play castle on the beach and taken the storybook. She teamed up with Sidney Glass in order dig up some dirt on Regina and invited Neal to help. Neal, who sensed a trap, declined and warned her off of trusting Sidney. Which of course, led to another fight where Emma demanded why should she trust Neal’s judgment when he wouldn’t even tell her his connection to August and Neal snapped back that if Emma’s superpower against lying was so effective, how could she not see Sidney as Regina’s tool?

Regina, after hearing about Neal punching August (presumably from Sidney), banned Henry from going near him. 

Eventually, Sidney double-crossed Emma, and then Emma was promptly banned from seeing Henry. Which led to another fight between Neal and Emma, where Neal unhelpfully pointed out that he told her so and Emma bellowed that if he’d bothered to help her in the first place, this never would have happened and Sidney didn’t double-cross her, he had no idea that Regina was playing them both. Neal called Emma naïve. Emma called him an ass. 

Which culminated to Henry yelling at both of them through a walkie talkie to stop behaving like children and start working together. Just because Regina wouldn’t let them near him, didn’t mean that Operation Cobra was off—in fact, it should have shot to the top of their priorities. Henry was obviously distressed not to be allowed near them, but damn it, the town was under a curse, they needed to work out their differences already! 

While ruminating on Henry’s scolding over coffee at Granny’s, Neal sighed. “Quick question. How did we get a kid more sensible than either of us?”

“You got me,” Emma’s brow furrowed. “God, I miss him.”

“Me too,” Neal pinched his brows. “We really blew it this time.” 

“Can’t argue with that,” Emma said morosely, dully clinking her mug to his. 

Mary Margaret walked into the diner and took a seat. She smiled at David across the way, who was frowning in concentration as he read. Immediately, Neal and Emma hopped up and cornered Mary Margaret. 

“How’s your day going?” Emma asked conversationally.

“Try the jelly doughnuts this morning?” Neal asked casually. “They’re out of this world.”

Mary Margaret regarded them both. “Henry’s fine.”

“That’s not what we asked…” Emma coughed. “You sure?”

Mary Margaret smiled at both of them. “Really. He’s his normal self. Regina won’t keep you separated forever. When people are supposed to be together, they find a way.”

“Yeah,” Emma sighed. “So he’s his normal self? He’s fine? He’s happy?”

“Yes,” Mary Margaret confirmed and blanched at Neal and Emma’s dejected expression. “No! He misses you both! A lot! Trust me—I’m with him like, six hours a day.”

“Six hours? You take newborns? Because I’d love six hours off.”

Ashley joined their table, baby on the knee. She nodded at Neal pleasantly, who offered to take Alexandra. Gratefully, she delivered the baby into his arms and he bounced her a little, cooing. He always liked babies. 

“How’s it going?” Emma asked, watching Neal with the baby. She has a very curious expression on her face.

“It’s uh…it’s uh…I mean, baby’s great, but we really haven’t had time to do the whole ‘getting married’ thing,” Ashley sighed. “So that’s been rough. And Sean’s been working double shifts at the cannery.” 

“Well, he has to work,” Mary Margaret said practically.

“On Valentine’s Day? Yeah,” Ashley said glumly. “He couldn’t get out of it.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma said sympathetically. “That sucks.” 

The conversation had turned towards Valentine’s Day plans, so Neal decided to vacate the premises to avoid awkward questions. He handed the baby to Granny, who was only too happy to take him and exited the diner, shivering at the crisp wind. 

Valentine’s Day. It was cliché at this point to say he hated the holiday, but it did not inspire warm memories. What’s more, it made him nervous. Should he get something for Emma? They weren’t together, obviously, but she was still the mother of his child. Did that warrant a Valentine’s Day card? 

He was about to take the turn onto the forest path and head towards Jefferson’s manor, when he noticed something odd. Gold’s house. The door to the pink house was slightly ajar and as Neal stepped nearer, he noticed furniture and whatnot tossed aside. Feeling a slight déjà vu, he slowly entered, keeping his eyes peeled for Gold. Would he find his father laid out on the ground again? 

The house seemed empty, though certainly robbed. He was about to turn around and leave, so he could call Emma, when he turned a corner and found two guns in his face.

“Jesus!” Neal exploded. Emma and Gold lowered their guns, blinking in surprise. 

“Sheriff Swan,” Gold managed a half-smile. “And Mr. Cassidy.”

“Your neighbor saw your front door open—they called it in,” Emma reported.

“It appears I’ve been robbed,” Gold said slowly. 

“Funny how that keeps happening to you,” Emma said dryly.

“Yeah, well, I’m a difficult man to love,” Gold hissed a little. Neal rolled his eyes.

“I was just on my way home,” He told Emma. “Noticed the door open. I guess there are a lot of suspects, considering everyone in this town hates him.”

“Hardly,” Gold snorted. “Sheriff Swan, Mr. Cassidy, you can go now. I know exactly what was taken and who did it. I’ve got it from here.”

Neal and Emma glanced at each other.

“No, you don’t,” Emma retorted. “This was a robbery—a public menace. And if you don’t tell me what you know, I’ll have to arrest you for obstruction of justice. I have a feeling you don’t want to be behind bars.”

For someone who used to avoid the cops so much, Emma sure was getting a kick out of arresting people. Neal raised an eyebrow at her and she ignored him. 

“Indeed not,” Gold muttered. “All right. His name’s Moe French. He sells flowers. He recently defaulted on a loan. A short time ago, we had a little disagreement over collateral.”

Neal started. There was a special sort of hatred in Gold’s voice as he spoke of Moe French. He recognized that hatred—it was a hatred Rumplestiltskin reserved for a few select people. 

“Okay,” Emma said crisply. “I’ll go get him. Check him out.”

“I’m sure you will,” Gold said patronizingly. “Assuming I don’t find him. Let’s just say…bad things tend to happen to bad people.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed. “Is that a threat?”

“Observation,” Gold’s voice was carefully pleasant. “Good luck.”

Emma glared at him before turning away. Neal, however, remained rooted to the spot.

“Something you wanted, Mr. Cassidy?” Gold asked airily. “I’m afraid I have a lot to do and cannot offer legal counsel at the moment.”

Neal faced him. “What did he really do?”

Gold’s expression was blank. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Ashley robbed you too, you didn’t vaguely threaten to murder her,” Neal crossed his arms. “What did this guy really do?”

Something flickered in Gold’s expression. Neal sucked in his breath. He knew that look. He’d seen it many times before, before Rumplestiltskin did something horrible. It was a look of great pain and greater darkness. Whatever Moe French had done…it was something bad. 

“I believe I explained his motivations to our sheriff,” Gold said smoothly. “I am unsure why you are so interested, Mr. Cassidy.”

Neal rolled his eyes. “Look…if there’s one thing I get, it’s not trusting the fuzz. But despite what you think, Emma’s on your side. If you have something on this guy, if he’s done something to you…she can help, you know.”

Gold snorted. “I appreciate Sheriff Swan’s commitment to her duty. But it’s unneeded. Trust me. I’m sure you can show yourself out.” 

The conversation was over. Neal sighed in frustration and exited Gold’s house as directed. He knew he should leave well enough alone—after all, staying as far away from his father as possible had been one of his main objectives. 

But something about the situation bothered him, and he couldn’t put his finger on it. The rage behind Gold’s expression, the ugly threat on Moe French’s life…that wasn’t the Mr. Gold Neal had met his first day here. That was pure Rumplestiltskin.

Neal suspected that Gold remembered who he was. But he couldn’t prove it. What’s more, confronting Gold was the last thing he wanted. It only took a misstep and then Gold would know who Neal truly was. And what then? 

Neal shuddered. He left the Enchanted Forest so long ago. How long had it taken for the Dark One to corrupt his father, utterly and wholly? He had been his only link to his father’s humanity. After Rumplestiltskin had released his hand, condemning his son to the world without magic…there could only be pure evil left. 

Nevertheless. Neal needed to figure out the connection between Moe French and Rumplestiltskin.

XXXX

“Dad, I don’t have the book, remember?” Henry sighed. “It’s gone now. Maybe forever.”

Emma had to play Regina’s rules. She was under Regina’s jurisdiction and paycheck. But Neal found little ways to spend time with Henry. He occasionally would visit Henry during recess and Mary Margaret was good about looking the other way. 

“You’re an expert on that book, kid,” Neal told him. “And weren’t you taking notes on which citizens of Storybrooke were in the book? You said Archie was Jiminy Cricket and we know Regina is the Evil Queen. What about the florist? Moe French?”

Henry shrugged. “I think I’ve met him once. He’s not important.”

“He’s important to Rumplestiltskin,” Neal pressed. “C’mon, kid. Who were Rumplestiltskin’s enemies?” 

Henry snorted, taking a seat on the swing. “Try everyone. I don’t think there’s a single person in that book that didn’t have a bad interaction with him. He has more enemies than friends.” 

Neal sighed, taking the swing next to him. “And God knows he didn’t have any friends.”

“Just one.”

Neal blinked and then relaxed. “I was his son, not his friend, Henry.”

“I didn’t mean you,” Henry said calmly. “I meant Belle.”

Neal stared at him. “Who?”

“You know, Belle,” Henry said in a somewhat obvious voice. “From the book.”

“I haven’t read the book all the way through,” Neal reminded him. “He didn’t know any Belle.”

“He met her after he sent you to the world without magic,” Henry clarified. “A long time after.”

“Who was she?” Neal wanted to know.

“She was the beautiful daughter of the Merchant King,” Henry explained patiently. “The Merchant King asked for Rumplestiltskin’s help in defeating the ogres. Rumplestiltskin agreed on one condition—if the Merchant King gave up his daughter. Rumplestiltskin wanted her as a servant.” 

Neal didn’t bother to hide his utter disgust at the deal. Henry blinked at the revolted expression and put his hand on his arm. 

“It was Belle’s choice,” He said comfortingly. “She wanted to save her people. So she agreed to go with him forever.”

Neal’s brow furrowed. “And then what happened?”

Henry raised and lowered one shoulder. “I don’t remember. I kinda skipped the mushy stories, except the ones about Snow White and Prince Charming.”

“What about in Storybrooke?” Neal asked. “Is she here? Has she forgotten who she is?”

“I haven’t seen her,” Henry said apologetically. “It wasn’t a happy story, Dad. I think she died in the end—the Evil Queen killed her or something.”

“Henry!” Mary Margaret called. “It’s time to come inside!”

He pushed off the swing. “Sorry, Dad,” He hugged Neal. “I wish we had the book back. I didn’t know that story was important, otherwise I would’ve memorized it like the others. I just didn’t think it had anything to do with Emma.”

“Don’t sweat it, kid,” Neal told him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Get to class. Hit the books. Make the grade. All that jazz.”

Henry sped off into the classroom. Mary Margaret nodded in acknowledgment and Neal heaved himself up, his mind swimming. 

"I kinda skipped the mushy stories. Mushy stories…did that mean…was this just a story of Rumplestiltskin’s cruelty? Or was there more to it? He couldn’t escape the uncomfortable feeling that he’d heard this story before. Belle…meant beauty. A brave beauty who gave up her life to become a servant in an enchanted castle…he knew this story, even if only by hearsay. 

He just couldn’t believe that Rumplestiltskin of all people was in it as well. 

XXXX

Neal passed Rumplestiltskin on his way into the sheriff’s office. Gold hardly noticed him, that same, strange cold expression on his face. A shiver went down Neal’s spine and he walked towards Emma, eyebrow raised at the clutter across her desk. 

“Y’know,” Emma crossed her arms. “It shouldn’t come as a surprise to me what an ungrateful bastard Gold is.”

“You found his stuff?” Neal picked up a small stone figure curiously.

“Yeah,” Emma said grumpily. “But apparently ‘there’s something missing’. I dunno why I bother with that piece of—”

“Did he say what it was?” Neal interrupted.

“Of course not,” Emma looked perturbed. “Does it matter?”

Neal grimaced. “It might. Gold is…particular about his stuff.”

“Hmph,” Emma grunted. “You find out anything?

Neal looked at her.

“I know you’ve been looking in to this,” A smile quirked across her face. “If you’re gonna help me solve crimes, I ought to at least make you a detective.” 

Neal shuddered. “Please, no. There’s just something that’s bugging me about this case, that’s all.”

“Bugging you how?” Emma asked.

Neal sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t understand why Gold is so fussed about this. Why he’s so angry. I’ve seen other people cross him before and he didn’t get nearly so enraged.”

“Is he really that mad?” Emma questioned. “He seems his usual bastard self.”

Neal shook his head. “He’s on edge. Whatever it was that Moe took, he really wants it back.”

Emma frowned. “What do you think he’ll do to get it back?” 

Neal didn’t answer. He was recalling a moment when he’d fallen in front of a wagon and scraped his knee. It hadn’t been the shopkeeper’s fault. But that hadn’t stopped Rumplestiltskin from turning the man into a snail and crushing it under his heel. 

Moe French was in danger.

XXXX

“Any luck?

“No,” Emma sighed, leaning against the bug, taking a drink from her coffee. “Moe was last seen at the bar, apparently bragging about putting one over Gold. Not a smart idea…no one’s seen him since. He just disappeared.”

“No one just disappears,” Neal said darkly. “Gold got to him first.” 

“We don’t know that,” Emma said evenly, but her expression read otherwise. 

“We do,” Neal replied firmly. “Gold’s a man of his word and he as good as told us he was going after him.” 

“Well, since you’re the Gold expert,” Emma said a mite sardonically. “Where would he have taken him?” 

Neal thought. “Does he have any out of the way property? Somewhere in the woods or in abandoned warehouse? Maybe by the docks?”

Emma sipped her drink musingly. “Mary Margaret took cover from a storm in an old cabin in the woods. She didn’t know who it belonged to, but I looked it up to make sure she wouldn’t get in trouble. The deed was in Gold’s name. But that’s just one option—you know Gold owns half this town.”

“It’s getting dark,” Neal looked towards the sky. “Let’s start there and work our way up.” 

“All right,” Emma agreed. “Hop in.”

She unlocked the yellow bug and noticed Neal hadn’t moved. He scratched his neck awkwardly. 

“What?” Emma asked warily.

“Here,” Neal pulled a long stemmed rose from his leather jacket. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” 

A storm of emotions crossed Emma’s face. Sadness, surprise, hope, fear. But Neal did not see any anger in her expression.

“If you’ll have it,” Neal shrugged. 

“Well…thanks,” Emma slowly reached forward and accepted the rose, inhaling it instinctively. “What…what’s this for?”

“Valentine’s Day,” Neal repeated. “I know—I didn’t mean it like…I mean, we’re co-parenting sort of, so I just thought…”

“No, I get it,” Emma said immediately. “I mean. Thank you. It’s beautiful. I didn’t expect—thank you.” 

She tucked the rose into her front jacket pocket, crumpling the stem a little. Neal had made sure to clip the thorns for this precise purpose. It was kind of Jefferson to let him procure a rose from his garden. Neal had chosen a white rose, to try and remove the romantic connotations and just express appreciation for her. 

But a rose was a rose. There was no way to give a rose to someone casually. It always meant something. 

They drove to the woods without another word, too afraid of what had just transpired. Frankly, Neal wasn’t sure when he became Emma’s deputy, but it was better than fighting with her about how to go against Regina. And yet, he was perfectly willing to recklessly charge forward against Rumplestiltskin. That wasn’t a good sign. Perhaps Neal’s emotions were getting in the way of his common sense.

“Look!” Emma yelped suddenly, breaking Neal out of his reverie. “That van!”

“Moe’s van,” Neal said grimly.

They parked and raced towards the cabin. Emma put a finger to her lips but her eyes widened. They could hear the sound of someone screaming inside.

“You shut her out. You had her love, and you shut her out!”

Neal kicked the door down and froze. There was Gold, beating a tied up Moe French with his cane. He didn’t even pause, didn’t even seem to register Emma and Neal’s explosive entrance. But Neal couldn’t move, too caught in Gold’s screams.

“She’s gone. She’s gone forever—and she’s not coming back. And it’s your fault! Not mine! You are her father! Yours! It’s yours! It’s your fault! It’s your fault!”

Neal couldn’t breathe. 

“Stop!” Emma hissed, rushing forward, snatching Gold’s arm. Gold awoke from his murderous daze and took them in blearily. His gaze then focused on Neal, who remained paralyzed near the door. 

“You are her father! It’s your fault!”

He couldn’t get the words out of his head. 

“Neal,” Emma called. “Little help?”

“Right,” Neal shook himself. “Ambulance should be here any minute.” He went to Moe French, who was groaning and crying in relief. Gold seemed utterly dazed, not even seeming to notice their presence. 

Moments later, Neal helped load Moe French onto a stretcher. Swallowing hard, he turned away from the ambulance and joined Emma and Gold. 

“You have a funny definition of justice,” Emma was telling him. “What did he really do?”

“He stole,” Gold replied and left it at that.

“That reaction was about more than taking a few trinkets. You said something about how he hurt her—what happened to ‘her’? Who was that? What did he do? If someone needs help, maybe I can help,” Emma said seriously and Neal’s stomach lurched. 

“No, I’m sorry Sheriff. I think you heard that wrong,” Gold said coldly. 

At that, Emma was tired of games and promptly arrested Gold. 

XXXX

Regina, being Regina, did not waste an opportunity. Once she knew that Gold was behind bars, she immediately appeared in Emma’s office, offering to let both Emma and Neal take Henry out for ice cream—provided they leave her alone with Gold. 

Emma reluctantly agreed and Neal didn’t fight her on it—it had been ages since they’d done something together. Still, he didn’t like Regina and Rumplestiltskin plotting alone together. It would not lead to good things. 

Once inside the ice cream parlor, Henry turned to Neal. “Dad—I remembered something about the story about Belle.”

“What story?” Emma wanted to know.

“His storybook,” Neal filled her in. “I asked him about one of the stories the other day.”

Emma wrinkled. “When did you—”

“So Belle did fall in love with Rumplestiltskin,” Henry reported. “And she almost broke his curse—”

“She what?!” Neal’s tone made Emma jump. He cleared his throat, trying to remain calm and detached for Emma’s benefit. “You said—she almost broke the curse on Rumplestiltskin? The Dark One’s curse?”

“Yeah,” Henry nodded, taking a large lick of chocolate chip. “True Love’s kiss.”

Neal stared at his son in disbelief. True Love’s kiss?! How could that be?! If that had been a way to break the Dark One’s hold, why hadn’t the Reul Ghorm mentioned it to him?! It could’ve changed everything!

“But—but he didn’t love her back? And it didn’t work?” Neal tried to keep his voice from shaking.

“No, I said it almost worked,” Henry informed him. “He started to change back. But he stopped halfway through, chose power over love. He sent Belle away and the Evil Queen told him that she’d thrown herself off the tower.”

“Who wrote this book?” Emma said incredulously, taking a bite out of a fudgsicle. “Kinda dark, wouldn’t you say?”

Neal’s ice cream was melting but he barely noticed. What was it that Henry had said? The Evil Queen told Rumplestiltskin that Belle had killed herself?

So the Evil Queen had known about Belle. She must’ve known Belle’s value to Rumplestiltskin. If Rumplestiltskin—if he’d truly loved this girl, that meant Regina would have a bargaining chip. Especially when she cast the curse. And that could only mean one thing. 

The Evil Queen had lied to Rumplestiltskin. Belle was somewhere in her captivity, awaiting the day Regina needed a final trump card. 

“Neal,” Emma tapped his shoulder. “You okay? It freaks me out when you get all serious.”

“He’s putting the pieces together,” Henry said wisely. “Right, Dad?”

“Right,” Neal grinned. “Hey Emma, gimme a lick, that cookies and cream looks good.”

To his surprise, Emma rolled her eyes and offered the cone. He took a bite and then offered his own strawberry sorbet. She accepted and he noted her lips turned ruby-red at the taste. He felt the distinct desire to kiss her and he noticed with pleasure that her cheeks went a little pink.

She broke her gaze. “Thirty minutes are almost up. C’mon, kid, time to take you back.” 

Regretfully, they returned to the sheriff’s office. Regina had apparently finished her conversation—and looked simultaneously distressed and satisfied as she escorted Henry out. Neal watched her leave. If she had something over Gold…if she could use this poor girl to meet her ends, simply to hurt Rumplestiltskin…

“Regina give you a present?” He heard Emma ask Gold sarcastically. He turned and watched Gold ignore Emma, carefully turning over a chipped teacup in his hands.


End file.
